Who Knew?
by Valkyrien
Summary: Remy's powers are out of his hands, control is a thing of the past and so he must reevaluate everything; his life, his mutations, and his relationship to the one person who can help him through this.
1. Part 1

**_DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, as well you know._**

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**_Who Knew?_**

_Part 1_

Three years was a hell of a time to still remember a pretty face, he'd told himself. Even if it was a pretty face he'd promised himself he'd see again. He wasn't usually too stringent about keeping that kind of promise. _'Count yer blessin's now,'_ Tante Mattie had said, _'Never know when dey'll be gone 'gain.' _He'd always passed that off as just something people said, like 'Of course you don't look fat' and 'I love you'. He still remembered bragging about the lack of disembowelment to St. John when he'd called to let the lad know he wouldn't be back from his jaunt to rescue Jean-Luc only to find out that St. John had taken up permanent residence in Bayville to be closer to a certain _fille_ by the name of Wanda. _'There's nothin' this sheila can' do mate - I'm tellin' ya she's magic!'_ Remy had no desire to recall what else the excitable Aussie had said about the witch, but he vaguely remembered something about marriage and touring the world's dryest areas together. He sincerely hoped the girl had more sense than he even if she _did _lack judgement and marry him. Or had. He wouldn't know. It wasn't like he'd kept in touch, or been around.

Three years was a little long to leave it after all. No use driving into town to look them up to find out the Australian native had either forgotten him or had moved on. Either way, it wasn't worth it. He'd managed to escape being gutted like a freshly caught trout by Wolverine once, he didn't fancy seeing if the luck held true twice. Anyhow it hadn't been luck. More the intervention of a certain pretty face who'd been much more than just that. Any woman who could kick arse, accept manipulation for the right reasons, still come out on top, and (so he heard) save the world in the space of a few weeks was a lot more than just a nice pair of legs and a set of green eyes.

He'd told himself it didn't matter – hell, he'd told his bourbon it didn't matter – countless times, but despite the slip back into old titles and routines, the comforting monotony of grand theft and near-death experiences, the bourbon didn't wash away the taste of grape-tinted lips and the deck of cards missing the Queen of it's Hearts still hid in the concealed inner pocket over his own heart. Three years was an awfully large amount of alcohol and an awful lot of time to erase details. Lined eyes. Kisses. Being yelled at only to be saved and forgiven because there was a spark of good in him he thought he'd left behind years ago.

He remembered coming to on the warehouse floor feeling like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer yet grinning like a fool.

He remembered being shoved out of a train and having his fingers nigh crushed by someone who might lack his powers but still equalled him.

He remembered feeling almost deserving of the gutting he'd been spared by a Roman Emperor-esque nod of approval. Does the hapless slave live or die?

The right things for the wrong reasons? The wrong things for the right reasons... What was the right reason again? Maybe he should go to Bayville and ask St. John? Check in and see how things were? He'd promised to swing by, hadn't he? Promises weren't his strong suit. Running, deception and violence was more his backyard and he preferred playing by rules he knew. He didn't know right from wrong as such and it had always worked out well enough. Why not now?

_**~******************************************************~**_

"Count yer blessin's, Remy," Tante Mattie said, stroking back the tangled hair of the young man who might as well be her own child if love was any measure of these things.

"Count yer blessin's..." She didn't pretend to understand what was going on, he'd never been a usual child, but she did know there wasn't much she could do to help him. His delirium seemed to have no end, as did the fever racking his body, and they had had to fire-proof his room as he gradually lost control of every aspect of his powers and they tore him apart from the inside out_. _

'_Y' call dat man, Jean-Luc, y' call 'm an' y' tell 'm mah __**petit bebe **__needs dere help oh Ah swear t' Gawd Ah'll tear y' 'part!'_

She smiled at the memory. They'd be here soon. The ones the fevered boy on the bed she sat on had told her about. If anyone could help, surely they could. Her baby with the beautiful eyes noone else would look at. His father's pride, his Tante Mattie's everything. His eyes snapped open and focused on her face long enough for her to understand this could be a rare moment of lucidity.

"_Mon petit_, dey'll be here soon, y' hold on fer y' Tante, i's gone be alrigh'," she said calmly, holding back tears with an iron will and a pinch of that special magic all mother figures possess that allows them to face any obstacle in their baby's life with a dry eye and a ready embrace.

_**~******************************************************~**_

"How long has it been like this?"

"What was the cause of it all?"

"Have you tried –"

"Let me, Ah'll –"

"No, don't, we don't yet know how –"

He felt a lightening of the weight across his chest that seemed to radiate from his arm - or was it further down? His hand? It was consistent, a steady flow of clarity dissolving the walls of his confusion. He couldn't hear them anymore. Were they even there? How long had he been dreaming? Not dreaming – insane? Were they talking about him at all? He was too tired to talk to them. But the tugging on his hand persisted and he opened his mouth to tell it to stop, he was too tired to deal with it. Make Henri do it... It wasn't fair that he always had to take care of things...

_**~******************************************************~**_

Something was stroking his brow. It was pleasant enough and he wondered what it might be. He saw something green but his eyes weren't open – were they? He blinked. They must be. Lots of green.... He tried to comment it but he couldn't speak and he heard voices. He didn't try to discern them from eachother or the ones in his head, Lord knows they were all gibbering on unbearably anyhow. No point trying.

_Have to try... Please try..._ What? Try? But he didn't want to, he tried to say, it was hard and he was tired. No, no, he wouldn't –

_Please, Remy... Try for me... Listen..._ It was a very convincing voice and he focused on it. Lilting. Familiar. Soft. The black cleared and the green solidified into eyes, eyes watching him. He'd had this dream before, hadn't he? The green eyes and the pretty voice telling him to wake up? Not right now, he thought, later. Always later.

_Now, Remy, please..._

_**~******************************************************~**_

The kiss woke him... He felt the kiss, felt it properly, tasted it properly like it was real, like it was actually happening again, and his eyes opened to a sea of cream and flowing white, green eyes looking at him from beneath thick black lashes. Very pretty.

"... _wake up_..." "'m awake..." he rasped. Must be really ill, he thought, bad cold maybe? He didn't remember sleeping, didn't remember going to bed or being ill. He didn't even think he was in his own bed anymore. Where was he? He felt too weak to turn his head so he blinked to clear his sight and looked up again.

"'m glad you're awake..." The pretty voice for the pretty face, he thought, trying to focus on it. There was a hand on his, idly caressing it, milky fingers ending in even, clean, clear nails, and he grimaced. Didn't remember that either, but this wasn't right. The kiss always ended in him sleeping, on and on...

"Ah have t' touch you," the pretty voice said, and he found he held no objections to this notion. Seemed alright by him. Even the voices were quiet. A lone, lazy spark travelled from his index finger up the white hand and sank into the soft, bare skin of the attatched wrist. Looked just like charging cards did, just smaller... charging minute locks, maybe. Yes.

"Y' have t' stay awake or it'll take longer..." Okay, awake, he could do that... His eyes inched their gaze away from where the spark had disappeared back to the green of the pretty voice's eyes, dragging over black and red on the way. Auburn, maybe, like Tante Mattie's hair. Not red. Silly. A little white, then a different white. Softer. And the eyes held him again.

"Try and stay awake, Remy, please try..." But he was dreaming again, dreaming of kisses.

_**~******************************************************~**_

" – much better, Professor... Keeps drifting away though... It feels all wrong in mah head, lahke a wall or somethin'..."

"Has it helped having Kurt and Logan in here with you when you drain him?"

"Sometahmes... Ah don' really know they're there – Ah can feel Kurt huggin' me an' Logan holdin' me back when Ah'm gettin' tired, but mostly Ah don' know anyone's there bu' me an' him, an' he's dead t' the world... it's like Ah'm trapped inside his head, Professor, an' it's not a good place t' be..."

"I think perhaps he's come round, if you would care to show me..." Remy felt the soft white hand on his cheek and felt the weight lifted off him again, only this time when the hand moved, the weight didn't settle again. It stayed gone.

"P-professor – Ah – what happened?" "I don't know, Rogue, perhaps if our guest is awake he can shed some light on this... Mr LeBeau? Can you hear me?" Remy nodded, only a tiny movement that left him feeling as though he'd run a mile backwards, and began to understand that perhaps he was really quite ill and not just dreaming it all.

"Remy, can y' hear me?" the pretty voice was asking him, using his name. Was it her?

"_Chere_..?" he tried, but his voice was barely recognisable as his own and he doubted it was coherent enough for them to understand.

"Did he say –"

"He called meh _chere_, Professor, he knows Ah'm here!"

"Rogue..." he tried, opting for a more direct approach, and whether or not he was dreaming, the sudden clench of the hand on his arm felt real enough for him.

"He – Ah – Professor..."

"It's alright, Rogue, you don't have to stay if you don't feel up to it –"

"No! Ah wanna stay!" It was so hard to keep track of what they were saying, but he felt so much clearer and she had said she wanted him to try...

"Where...?"

"You are at my Institute, Mr LeBeau, your Aunt called us because you've been very, very ill." This other voice was calming, but he preferred Rogue's. It was safer.

"_Non_, 'm not..." he tried to protest, but the fille shook her head.

"Professor, he doesn't understand – Ah can feel it in mah head, he won' understand until he's better an' then he'll wanna leave..." She sounded distraught. He hated when women got distraught. That was when he would generally excel in his role of knight gallant and come to their aid with a sympathetic ear and equally if not more sympathetic arms. Usually that helped with the crying issue. He truly hated it when they cried. The way he saw it women were lovely – if expensive - creatures meant to be admired and craved and fawned over. Crying and general unhappiness really had no part in it. But try as he might he could barely lift his head, let alone give her a hug, and he rather suspected he'd find himself in the morgue before she ever let him put his arms around her never mind how upset she sounded.

"Rogue, calm yourself, please. This young man won't be going anywhere until he's well, we made a promise to his Aunt and I do believe even Logan was convinced by her argument that he needed our care." Rogue looked wistful.

"She said she'd skin 'im an' hang 'im on her fron' porch, didn' she?" The Professor looked shifty for a moment, as though trying to conceal something.

"I don't recall the exact details but it may have been something like that, yes."

"Professor, you gotta help him... I don' know half of what's been done t' him an' Ah should've put him in a coma by now!"

"His powers are extraordinary... And his regenerative abilities rival Logan's own... I'm afraid we'll have to wait until he improves to question him furter, but for now it is enough that he recognises you. You bear him no ill feeling?"

"Ah don' know... He's pretty much in mah head fer good now, so Ah cain' really tell how Ah feel... More lahke how _we_ feel..." Listening was strenuous business, Remy decided. It was enough to be awake and let her voice carry him away. So soothing...

_**~******************************************************~**_

_**Author's Notice:** This will be continued after a minimum of four reviews which should make time for continuation of my other ongoing fiction Scarlet Letter. _

**_Thank you for reading._**


	2. Part 2

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters, I just manipulate them to serve my purposes.**_

**_(Cara410, Tigeress11, KHwhitelion, AshmandaLC, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, Eva Von Dee and ONIX-21, thank you so much for your reviews, more of the same will get you updates as per the usual rule, thanks for all your praise! LadyMageLuna, I'm glad you think so, anon goddess you're a peach and thanks for everything. Hope this is up to scratch, enjoy!)_**

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**Who Knew**

Part 2

There was a blue monster staring at him. He took it well and decided if he was indeed ill and being looked after at Rogue's Institute at the wish of Tante Mattie – perhaps for legal reasons? – it was likely best to assume everything odd was just a hallucination and to remain calm. So he went back to sleep.

_**~******************************************************~**_

Next time he woke, he woke from a nightmare of hospital beds and nurses with scalpels, and he sat bolt upright and grabbed the slim, white wrist of the Southern Belle hard enough to bruise, blind to who she was for a minute before he came fully to and looked at her. Her eyes were wide but not with fear. It looked more like hope – or possibly apprehension.

"Are y' alright? Ah didn' take too much?" she asked hesitantly, and he lowered himself back onto the pillows, mumbling.

"_Non... seulement un cauchemar... Une rêve..._"

"Okay... Y' were havin' a nightmare, ah know... 'M sorry, but Ah could see it all," she apologised for nothing, he thought. He wasn't sure what she was doing to him or what was wrong with him, but he was certain she hadn't harmed him so there was no need for apologies.

"Y' wanna know what's goin' on with you?" she asked, and he nodded. Talking was tiring and he wanted to know everything. Why she was touching him. Why he was there in the first place. Why he almost wished he could be ill for the rest of his days if it meant she were figuratively chained to his bedside, which she seemed to be. He hadn't woken once without her being there. She bit her lip, trying to figure out where to start, and he tried to focus on listening.

"Well, ah don' know all the details or anything but the Professor says yer powers flared up suddenly lahke about a month ago Ah think, an' y' couldn' control 'em so ya kinda broke down, if that makes any sense... Yer powers were eatin' you up from the inside an' y' sorta slipped into this weird delusional dreamworld and y' wouldn' wake up... Your Aunt was so worried she got yer dad ta call us up to come get you an' get you better again. She has that man so whipped Ah can' tell who's in charge around there, but she sure as hell makes a good cup o' coffee..."

She broke her little speech with a smile and he tried to return it. That sounded like Tante Mattie alright.

"Anyway, Ah've sorta been skimmin' off the excess power in you since ya couldn' handle it all in one go an' we were pretty worried when y' jus' kept makin' more o' the shit. Lahke Ah told the Professor, y' shouldn't be able to take mah touchin you this much but Ah ain' drainin' you lahke Ah normally would. You've got too much energy inside you fer me ta do any damage. Ah jus' keep the levels down so it doesn' get too much for ya. You gotta learn ta control it all over again or it'll take ya over an' you won' survive that..." He sighed.

"Damn," was all he said, coupled with an exasperated, slightly bored look at her.

"More trouble dan i's worth, _non chere_?" She laughed a little, sounding both bitter and understanding.

"Sometahmes Ah get t' thinkin' bein' lahke us really is jus' a curse, let's leave it at that," she said, rising to leave him too, and he caught onto her hand and said,

"Will y' be back?" She nodded and left almost silently, and he turned his face to the ceiling and sighed again. Guess it shouldn't have come as such a surprise that this could happen but he'd never even spared it a thought. He'd never assumed it could be an issue for him, not after he'd spent so many years learning how to control his gift perfectly, bend it to his will.

Maybe he just didn't know his own will...

**_~*****************************************************************~_**

"Stripes – how is he?" Rogue turned to face Logan who wore a strange look on his rugged face, the sharp contours softened into something he usually reserved for her and Kitty and the very few others whom he really connected with. Oddly enough, never Scott.

"He was just awake... Ah think he's takin' it pretty bad – not bein' able ta control it anymore..." Logan nodded.

"I can see why that'd hit him hard." She looked down.

"I guess when yah've always been on top of everythang it... it must be rough not having that anymore..." she said hesitantly, and Logan put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a half-hug that meant more from him than a full hug from anyone else in the house on a good day.

"He'll get over it. It's not your job to worry about whether or not he can handle his – you just make sure he doesn't blow up the mansion and Charles will take it from there. Even if the little rat does have some kinda mental block thing going on..." Logan sounded almost as though Gambit were cheating him somehow with the kinetic interference that rendered Professor X's telepathic abilities useless in connection with him. Rogue just sighed.

"Hey – if he gives you any trouble, or if you feel too tired to take this on you just say the word," Logan said seriously, and she smiled at him.

"Yeah, Ah know... Ya'll deal with it, raght?"

"I'll deal with it. Go and eat, your brother's been asking for ya." Logan turned away, releasing her, and left, and Rogue wrapped her arms aroud herself, suddenly very cold, and went in the other direction to her room. She didn't feel much like going to dinner. She wanted to go and check on Remy. See if he was still awake, see if he needed her – abruptly she realised she was basically planning out his care as though he were her pet and not a seriously ill mutant probably several years her senior. Well... Maybe not _several_... One or two, _maybe_..

"Rogue!" Her brother bampfed into mid-air above her and did a complex somersault that landed him in front of her where he gave her a bear hug and kissed her cheek.

"Kurt!" And –**_ BOOM!_**

**_~*****************************************************************~_**

On the floor, thick dust swirling around her, covering everything, she coughed harshly and cast about for her brother. She thought she could hear him but she could see nothing, and then Logan was by her side, claws out, snarling, lifting her up –

"Kurt! _Kurt_! Logan – "

"Not now, Stripes, not now!"

Over his shoulder she saw Dr. McCoy lifting a bundle that was wearing her brother's clothes, but it wasn't him, was it? She realised Logan was running with her, taking her outside, and she wanted to question it but he set her down on the lawn and retracted his claws, checking her over for injury.

"Logan, Ah – "

"Take it easy Rogue, just take it easy. You had a little accident. Hank's got it covered but you're staying out here where you can't destroy anything until you've calmed down," the big man was saying, but she was trembling all over, she didn't understand what had happened at all –

"Did Ah do that? Did Ah – "She looked up at the smoking west wing of the mansion and the tears broke through.

"Ah didn' know – I don't know how Ah – Ah'm so sorry!" His arms were around her, rocking her while she cried, and she dug her nails into them, trying to release the doubts inside her, the fear that she'd harmed someone – harmed someone _again_ without meaning to, again using mutant powers, except this time not her own, not hers, she couldn't make things explode like that. That was... Remy's. Gambit's power. That was what he did. Had she taken so much that his lack of control had slipped over into her? She'd have felt that though, felt the pull! There had been nothing, nothing to suggest that she had taken that!

"I know you didn't mean to, it was an accident now just take it easy and we'll go and see the Professor about this – "

"I am here, Logan. Rogue, please calm yourself. Kurt will be fine, you didn't hurt him. But we do need to ask Gambit a few things and for that we need your help."

"No..." Her eyes were wide with terror at the idea – they couldn't be serious, look what she'd _done_!

"Ah'm never touching him again! Ah'm never touching _anyone_ again! Ah won't do it, Ah won'!" Tearing loose from Logan she stumbled to her feet and ran, and he started after her when the Professor said,

"Wait! Logan, let her go – you and I can ask Gambit what we need to know – for now I think she needs to be properly alone – if he'll let her..." Logan sighed and shook his head, doubt clouding his eyes as he looked up at the mansion, dust still settling around the west side.

"I don't like it, Charles. I don't like it one bit."

**_~*****************************************************************~_**

"Gambit can' do dat." The Professor narrowed his eyes at him.

"You are certain of this, Mr. LeBeau?"

"Oui. No organic materials. Can' charge dem." Logan growled under his breath at the young man who looked puzzled.

"Why? Why do y' need to know? Gambit won' do it for y' so y' have t' believe him."

"We need to know because it appears that Rogue's instabilities led to a minor accident earlier here at the Institute and she – "

"She charged and blew up her brother. Not badly, he's alive and he'll live, but we're asking if this is normal for you." Logan appeared to be keeping a very thin rein on his temper, and was somewhat thrown by the abject horror on the young Cajun's face.

"_Merde_... Rogue did dat? She shouldn' – we can' do dat! How did she – !" The Professor held up his hand to quiet him.

"We don't know why it happened – perhaps Kurt startled her in some way, we can't know until she's calmed down sufficiently to ask her and right now I think she needs a little peace and quiet. We were hoping you could tell us how, though, but if you can't – "

"Remy ain' charged notin' organic fer years – thought it was gone, couldn' do it anymore, never could since he firs' got de mutations an' learnt t' control dem. Rogue hasn't got dat – she'll have de blueprints o' Remy's gift, not de real ting, an' de starter package didn' come wit a user's manual," Remy explained, clearly very agitated.

"So you're telling us that when you were a kid you were blowing up things left right and centre 'til you learnt not to do that?" Remy treated him to a hateful sort of glare that didn't look quite sane with his eyes.

"_Mon pere_ made sure Remy knew how t' control it. Rogue ain' goin' through dat. Y' find her, tell her t' stay calm an' she won' charge anytin'. An' tell her she can take it back. She can always take it back..." the glare had drained him quite considerably, and Charles gave Logan a pointed stare that meant 'we're leaving' that any sentient being would have understood.

"We didn' lose her," Logan told him, and the weary Cajun just chuckled drily.

"An' y' don' have claws neither, _homme_."

**_~*****************************************************************~_**


	3. Part 3

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of this, it belongs to Marvel, all I've done is borrow and direct._**

**_(Fostersb, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, SilverWolf77, cara410, my dear LadyMageLuna, Ondjage, ONIX-21, the lovely anon goddess, chrono-contract and peppymint, thank you all so very very much for reviewing and being such lovely people for doing it! You all rock! KHwhitelion, thank you, too and thank you especially for your lovely replies, I'm glad to be of service anytime. AshmandaLC, you are, to quote my dear Pyro, a peach, and I completely agree with your sentiments regarding Rogue. I hope you'll tell me if I did her justice here too ^^ All of you, I am so glad you decided to review and I hope you will continue to do so and let me know how you think things are going. Have a fantastic day!)_**

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**Who Knew**

_Part Three_

It was Kitty who found her in the conservatory, curled up with her arms around her head like she'd fallen asleep trying to shield herself from something. It was Kitty who alerted Logan to the fact and it was he who carried her up to her room and put her to bed. It was Kitty who smoothed the hair from her face, careful not to touch but every gesture laden with enough sympathy and gentility for it to be as good as a caress. But it was another who lay strapped down to a gurney in the med bay receiving an injection that would silence him for hours and hours while he dreamt of control and green eyes and guilt.

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He sat by her bedside just as he had done the day they'd brought her home after she nearly allowed them to take over, to wrest what little control she had from her. The power of decision, free will. He sat there and waited until her lashes flickered on those bruise-like markings painted under the green eyes she opened to see him with. Just like then, he was afraid. Afraid to speak and to hear words spoken. Afraid something might break but not about to admit what it was.

"Scared me shitless there, Stripes..." Her mouth twitched.

"Ah'm sahrry Logan... Ah didn' know what ta do..."

"You ain' gonna be doin' anything until you feel better and Hank's done his tests," he said firmly, and she sighed.

"Are ya sure this is alraght? What about – "

"You just do as you're told and rest up. Focus on that. That's all we need you to do." Her eyes brightened.

"So he's better?"

"You just concentrate on you," Logan said, suddenly feeling so very tired. This was the one person he'd ever viewed as an extension of himself, the closest thing he had to a child. His little girl. And she was fading away.

"Hows Kurt..?"

"The elf will be fine. He's got a few scrapes and he's a little singed but he'll be okay." Her eyes closed in relief but the thick, pearly tears that leaked from them didn't seem to care.

"Oh, Gawd, Logan... Ah thought – Ah thought – " he put a hand on hers, squeezing her fingers gently, his gloves thin enough that she could feel the slide of his adamantium bones beneath them.

"You thought wrong. It's all going to be okay. You didn't give in this time either. You fought it. I'm proud of you." His voice was rough, an edge to it that usually wasn't there no matter how much of a growl his usual tone might be, and she looked at him.

"Thank you..."

"We're gonna get through this, girl. We're gonna win this one," he said quietly, and she smiled weakly.

"Ah need your help."

"You don't have to ask."

**_~*****************************************************************~_**

The shrieking woke up everyone in the mansion. It couldn't be described any other way than the sound they imagined a man made when his soul was forcefully removed. And none of them were sure they wanted to know if that was really what was happening. Except Hank McCoy and Professor Xavier who were drawn to the confines of the med bay by them – Hank looking like a hunted animal and the Professor clutching his temples in agony as they entered the room where they had left the patient.

"Charles! Charles, help him!" Hank yelled over the unearthly, harrowing sounds the young man was emitting, his features contorted in an agony different to the Professor's but every bit as real and quite a good deal more disturbing. Charles reached out to the youth but the waves of pure unadulterated terror and suffering clinging to the Cajun threw him back, driving like spikes into his mind and festering there, horrors pouring into it from the attempt to siphon off the young man's pain and help him. It was too much to bear and he wrenched his mind away from them, the torment unbearable.

"Charles!" Hank moved to help him but the psychic motioned for Hank to subdue Remy instead, and for the second time they were forced to sedate him, Hank's hands shaking with the effort of holding the lad down and injecting him. The thickly corded muscles on the bare arms stood out and then the Cajun slumped back against the steel of the gurney he was lying on and was finally still.

"Oh, God, Charles," Hank said in an undertone.

"What is this?" Charles stared at the figure before them and shook his head at his old friend.

"Demons... Demons that need fighting."

"You saw? I know _I_ saw you struggling with it, Charles, why was that? The boy has no psychic abilities!"

"No, but the bio-kinetic energy within him creates a shield mechanism to protect his mind from unwanted lookers-in, and at the level of power he has reached it all but repelled me. This combined with the sheer amount of projecting he was doing in his fear was more than enough to completely keep me out and indeed cause me some considerable discomfort." Hank nodded, agitated.

"Yes, yes, but did you see? And why was he projecting fear instead of thoughts?"

"He wasn't. He was projecting pain, the excess pain he was feeling. It was... quite disturbing..."

"What did it stem from, could you read anything from it?"

"No – but I believe it is vital that he and Rogue begin therapy again before it overpowers him again. At this rate of growth his powers are going to kill him."

**_~*****************************************************************~ _**

"Absolutely not, Charles." The Professor fixed the bulky man with a serious gaze.

"Logan, the boy could die. She has to consider it. She has to at least be told of the consequences if she refuses to continue helping him."

"None of you are going near her until she's well again. You have no idea what it did to her – thinking she'd hurt her own brother with powers that aren't even her own. She can't even control her own powers and you want to stick her with someone else's that can't be controlled either! No. You're not guilt tripping her into this. Leave the girl alone, she's done enough for you." The anger in Logan's voice was tempered with a grief Charles knew was not for himself but for the girl in the bed just beyond the sealed doors, and he sighed.

"Logan, she cares for Remy's state of health, just as we do. I understand that she is afraid, but we will not let any more accidents happen. We will not allow any more mishaps. I promise you that."

"You can't promise anything Charles. That's one thing she's learnt the hard way." Charles narrowed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Will you at least tell her how things stand? Give her the opportunity to choose for herself?" Logan looked away, hand poised over the keypad to punch in the code for her isolated room.

"I'll talk to her."

Charles nodded, having to accept it, as Logan entered the code and strode through the doors, not looking back. He had hoped the Canadian wouldn't be quite so stubborn, but he had set himself against it and Charles knew he wouldn't budge on this. Rogue was to all intents and purposes Logan's own child in his eyes, she might as well have been so biologically for the big man had wholeheartedly adopted her, taken her into his heart and his confidence, more so than with any other person Charles knew. He was the one they would have sent to the bedside of any of their charges who might cause a violent accient at any time, but he had not even volunteered to sit by hers. He hadn't said a word, simply carried her in and settled himself in the chair beside her. He hadn't spoken to anyone, hadn't moved from his post until she had woken up. Much the same way he had acted after she had been posessed by the numerous psyches fighting for control of her, much the same way he had acted after she had defeated Apocalypse. Storm said that Rogue was the child of Logan's heart, and Charles couldn't help but disagree. She was the child of his very soul.

**_~*****************************************************************~_**

"What did they want..? Ah heard things..." she asked wearily, as he came to sit next to her in his chair, and he heaved a sigh.

"I know you don't want to hear this so I'm gonna tell you the way it is and we are gonna deal with it as it comes, okay?" She nodded.

"Charles wanted me to let you know our friend the Cajun is getting worse. Charles and Hank can't help him because it's not a medical problem and he has shields around his mind that keep Charles out."

"They want mah help," she whispered.

"They do. I told them to go to hell and let you think about this properly. You don't have to do this if you don't feel you can handle it. You've done enough, Rogue. You've served your time. This is your choice, take it or leave it. I on't let them pressure you into this." She looked at him, fearful tears in her eyes.

"Is he – Logan, is he gonna die?" Logan put a hand over hers.

"I ain't gonna lie to you Rogue. There's a chance he could die. He's not fighting it and they can't help him." Her breath choked in her throat and the tears spilt over silently.

"Ah can' let him die! Ah can' touch him again but Ah can' let him die! What am Ah gonna do? What if Ah hurt someone again? Kurt was lucky!Ah – Ah can' hurt anyone Logan. Ah jus' can' do it!" Dissolving into tears, she collapsed into his arms, trembling and sobbing, and he held her quietly and stroked her hair, for all the world like a parent soothing their troubled child.

"You're gonna do whatever you want to do, Stripes. And whatever you do will be the right thing. No one can tell you different..."

"But Ah can..."

**_~*****************************************************************~_**


	4. Part 4

**_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing._**

**_(LadyMageLuna, thank you for your consistent support of my work. SilverWolf77, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, Fostersb, chrono-contract, cara410 and triolet, thank you all so very much for your kind words and your praise, I am so glad you enjoyed this so , well, y'all know how I feel about you sugah, thank you for everything ^V^ AshmandaLC, my little Pirate Queen, here's a little somethin' somethin' ^V~and Irual my dear, thank you for looking out for my health, I promise, now the creation is done, there will be rest - and cookies! Enjoy, my friends... )_**

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**_Who Knew?_**

_Part 4_

"... _you look so fahne... Ah wanna break your heart, and give you mine – you're takin' meh over... It's so insane... you've got meh tethered an' chained, Ah hear y' name... An' Ah'm fallin' over_..."

He heard the soft, whisperlike voice singing to him, a lullaby that the frightened child in him responded to, and he pushed through the heavy grey mantle towards the sound of salvation.

"... _Ah'm not lahke all the other girls... Ah can' take it lahke the other girls... Ah won' share it lahke the other girls, that you used t' know_..."

He opened his eyes and noticed that there was no sharp cutting of white light that he was accustomed to upon waking. Instead, the lights were dim and he could see her face only because she was so pale... her skin glowed with an inner light, the same light that illumined her eyes, and he noticed the deep shadows under them that had nothing to do with a lack of proper lighting.

"I'd never ask y' to, _ma chere_..." he breathed, and she met his gaze, the fear in those beautiful green pools cutting as surely as if someone had turned on a searchlight in front of his face.

"Shhh..." she said, placing her hand over his eyes, and he closed them, noting that before where her touch had always been cool, now her skin was like ice.

"_Chere_... Don' do dis... If y' don'... Wan' t'..." he managed, and she stroked his hair out of his face.

"_Knocked down, cried out... Been down just to find out... Ah'm through... Bleedin' f' you_..."

He swam in the soft, soothing sound of her voice, the feel of her skin against his, and he gravitated toward the feel of her so close to him, so close... There was an almost detached feel to her actions, as though she were centering her energy on the words spilling from her lips, cocooning him, focusing on that to draw herself from the reality that was their situation, and he fought to stay awake, to speak, reassure her, but at the same time he knew he'd lost the battle before he'd even been aware it was happening, losing himself in the nearness of her, feeling it invade him and welcoming it...

_**~***************************************************************~**_

She felt more like her own heart had broken within her as she looked down at him lying there, so vulnerable, so open. She could let him die. She could let him drift away into nothing, but she _couldn't_. She didn't know where the words came from, she'd never sung to anyone in her life, but she knew that she needed to focus herself around them, give them the part of her that needed him to wake up, needed him to be alright. She wondered whose heart would replace hers now that it was broken, and wondered if his hadn't broken a long time ago, too.

His words tore into her and she should have felt something more, something else, but all she felt was an overwhelming guilt. He didn't know. He didn't know that she had to do this, that she had no choice. That she wanted no choice, now that she was touching him again, now that she was by his side again. It had been so easy to repress the way she had felt before, focus on Kurt's injuries as a result of this, but she knew now that she'd never be able to deny him the help he needed when she could touch him like this.

Was this what she had come to? Willing to lay down her own safety and that of those around her for the sake of touch? Had it become such an obsession, such a weakness? Her fingers tangled in his hair, longer than it had been when he had taken her on her way to school and brought her to New Orleans to use her powers to fulfil his mission. It suited him. Her snow-white fingertips played over the strong lines of his jaw, the softer contours of his cheek, his neck... She had refused to acknowledge it back then, when her 'family' rescued her from the Bayou and she had left him behind, that she thought him intrigueing. Even handsome. She had denied any attraction to him and played up the emotional distress of the experience, forcing the others to taboo the subject to avoid having to have him brought up at every turn.

No, it wasn't touch that was the weakness, the tripwire. It was him. The memories of fighting alongside him still ghosted the periphery of her dreams, she still recalled the exact tone he employed when he called her 'chere', the battered Queen Of Hearts he had placed in her hand with the assurance that she would be fine was hidden under the red velvet inlay of her little silver music box, a gift from Logan on her seventeenth birthday.

'_You got people, watchin' f' y'...'_ Yes, she did. She had Kitty, her fountain of good will and cheer, practically her sister, Kurt, her doting brother, Logan, the father she'd never had or simply couldn't remember. And there was the extended gallery of Storm, the eternal mother in all their lives, Hank, more like a wise old grandfather than anything else, always so concerned. Jean and Scott, who lived with them on a part time basis only now that they were both finishing their degrees and had finally married – the wedding had been last year, Jean had decided on deep green silk for the bridesmaids' dresses because Rogue had jokingly said she wouldn't be caught dead in cream or pink. Rogue had only joked about it because she hadn't thought Jean would ever want her to be her bridesmaid. But she had been. And there was the Professor, the ever-present voice of reason, the calm centre towards whom they all flowed, the natural point of focus in their strange family.

She had friends, too. Kitty and Lance were engaged, and Scott had finally accepted that whatever else the Brotherhood leader might be, he was genuinely in love with Katherine Pryde. It was so strange the way they had all grown up, she thought. Lance was one huge block of solid muscle and solid leadership, always there to help out or just listen if you felt like venting. He had gotten over the temper issues of his teens and calmed down considerably, and he had proposed to Kitty on her eighteenth birthday. There had, of course, been much excitement, but Kitty had insisted they drag things out and see if they could handle the transition from adolescents to adults so they had set no date yet and it was a long-standing engagement, but so far they might as well be married the way Rogue saw it. They were the perfect couple.

Then there was Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch - and the sweetest damn person Rogue thought she'd ever met. Troubled and scarred by her past and the way her father had treated her, she had regained her lost memories piece by piece over the past three years and, with help from the Professor, worked through them as they came back to her in connection with intensive therapy and counselling with her brother, Pietro. Magneto had agreed to leave the Institute to pursue a quieter, more introspective life elsewhere until Xavier could report to him that Wanda and Pietro were now ready to accept him back into their lives, and Rogue knew that although Wanda would never forgive him, she was dealing with her anger and she was living her life the way a young woman ought to. And it was in no small way Pyro's doing that she was even willing to accept the possibility of dealing with things. The pyrokinetic mutant had shown up at the Brotherhood House, slammed five hundred into Lance's open hand and set up shop in the room opposite Wanda's two months after the defeat of Apocalypse, and Gods help her, Rogue had to admit he had been heaven-sent. With his remarkable ability to permeate every person in the house with a sense of fun and community, he had been instrumental in bringing Wanda and Pietro together and forcing Wanda to open her eyes to the fact that her 'nightmares' were in fact memories when the other boys were too afraid to broach the subject with her.

Wanda and Pyro had been one of those couples that started as an odd sort of friendship and quite suddenly blossomed into a completely unforeseen romantic relationship of frankly epic proportions. While Scott and Jean had been a slow-burning flame that warmed those around them, and Kitty and Lance had been a steady rising heat that neither ebbed nor faded with time, Wanda and Pyro apart were fire incarnate but together were an inferno in the truest sense of the word. Just being around them was to feel incinerated by their passion – Rogue called them Gomez and Morticia for the way they made everything in their day-to-day lives about them and the way they connected. Wanda was likely the only woman Rogue knew of who didn't get suspicious when her guy brought her flowers for no reason other than 'it's been two days', or who didn't think it odd to suddenly waltz around the living room because 'we haven't danced yet this week'. Pyro was unexpectedly a complete romantic, and given his dramatic side and the fact that they were both incredibly passionate people, their relationship reflected that. It was a wasted moment for both of them if they weren't touching each other, and rather than feeling somehow left out and saddened by the way they expressed their love, Rogue felt as though she were almost part of it. She knew it drove Pietro up the wall and that Toad had had a hard time coming to terms with it, but strangely none of them ever confronted Pyro with his infatuation and they certainly never asked Wanda what the deal was. Rogue's suspicion was that they were all a little afraid of what might happen if they tried to break them up, and living and having to witness their shameless love affair was infinitely preferable to dying messily.

Wanda was also one of the very few people who knew that Rogue and Remy had made their own connection on the road to liberating his father, and since Pyro was a one-time friend and confidant of Remy, Rogue was sure he knew too. Not that they would ever tell anyone, but perhaps Remy would like his old friend to at least know that he was here?

"How are ya, kid?" asked a gruff voice, and she turned her head to see Logan entering the room. She hadn't seen Kurt yet, they'd patched him up and installed him in his own room to heal. She didn't even know the full extent of his injuries.

"Ah'm alraght Logan..." she said quietly, and he pulled up a chair next to her.

"An' this one, how's he holdin' up?" She made a soft, noncommittal noise.

"He's fahne. Gettin' better. He was awake a little while ago... Logan, Ah wanna know how bad Kurt is. Y'all won' tell me an' Ah need ta know." Logan put a hand on her shoulder.

"Lost a few patches of skin on his upper body, blew a chunk of his thumb but that'll all heal back, mostly it was the shock that got 'im. He's fine, Stripes. He's already been up an' about so don't you worry about that. He said he'd visit you down here later." She leant against the big man for a few minutes, silent, until he said,

"You know you're the bravest damn kid I've ever met, Rogue. I'm proud of ya." She nodded and kept her hand on Remy's, her eyes fixed on him.

"What if he doesn' get any better? What if his powers aren' gonna let him control them?" she asked, and Logan shrugged.

"Well, from what I've seen of the rat he's got a pretty strong will to live, and he's gotten through one power surge before alone when he was younger or so his Aunt tells us – damn fine woman that Mattie," he added, and Rogue smiled at him.

"Is that what it takes ta get in your good books? Jus' gotta threaten you?" He frowned.

"You mind your business girl," he said roughly, and she rolled her eyes.

"Don' gimme that Logan. Ah know it when Ah see it."

"Ya know too damn much, always were too clever f' your own good," he grumbled, and nodded towards the youth on the bed who was looking at them with a confused sort of expression on his face.

"What..?" he asked, and Rogue said,

"He jus' came by ta see how y'are, don' worry," and Remy closed his eyes and nodded.

"'M sorry," he said, looking past her at Wolverine, who blinked a few times before shaking his head.

"Ya don' gotta be sorry round me, kid. This ain' your fault." Remy pushed himself up using his elbows and Rogue let go of him for a moment to let him.

"Shouldn' 'a' taken 'er dack den - done a lot 'a stupid tings. 'M sorry," he repeated, and Logan's expression softened just a touch as he reached out and clapped the boy's shoulder.

"It's okay. We're good. Now I'll leave you kids to it, Stripes – don't go tiring her out now, ya hear me boy?" Remy smiled weakly, a smidge of his old insolence peeking through the drawn, ill exterior.

"Try not to," he said, and Rogue smiled at Logan who stood and left them. She felt suddenly strange, sitting there next to Remy, alone, when he was awake and seemed better than he had in her company yet.

"_Chere_..?"

"What?" she asked, head still turned away, and he took her hand carefully and murmured,

"Won' y' even look at me?" She turned her head and fixed her eyes on their hands, the little pink sparks flowing into her skin. He was so much warmer than her...

"M' face, _chere_," he said quietly,

"Can' y' look me in de eye no more? Don' blame y'... I never liked dem neit'er..." She steeled herself and pulled up her scowl, meeting his eyes even though she felt completely terrified of doing so. It wasn't the eyes themselves that caused the fear, no, they were beautiful. Fascinating, deep, they glowed and pulsed and made him look even more wild and alive than otherwise.

"Guess it's too much t' ask f' a smile," he sighed, and she pushed her bangs out of her face.

"Well y'all never gave meh much ta smile about," she said, accusations rife in her tone, and he shrugged.

"No. Pity, I was too dumb t' realise dat y' smile's a lot prettier dan de alternative," he said regretfully, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Ah may not be the prettiest gal in the world, LeBeau, but if y'all wanna die ya jus' keep insultin' meh an' Ah'll arrange it!" she snarled, and he shook his head, a smile playing about his lips.

"_Chere_, y' gotta f'give me f' bein' outta trainin'. What I mean' was, seems like makin' y' smile's de only way t' get rid o' some o' dis guil' I been carryin' around all dis time, an' I never was one f' guilt. It ain' my style... So if y' could smile f' me, I can lie t' myself an' pretend y' don' hate ol' Remy as much as y' got de right t'..." he said softly, and her eyes widened before she clamped her lips firmly together and looked away from him.

"I know dis is de las' place y' wanna be', _chere_... 'm sorry. I can' undo what I did, I hoped y' could f'give me f' usin' y' but if y' can' do dat, I know I don' deserve it anyway," he added, and she made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Y'all should hear y'self talkin'... Biggest pile o' crap Ah ever did hear," she said harshly, and he squeezed her hand.

"_Chere_... I fucked up. I know I did. But I mean' when I said I was sorry. I t'ought I could use y' an' walk away but it ain' dat simple. Y' ain' de kinda _femme_ y' can walk away from." She looked at the tired sincerity on his face and wondered if he even had the energy to lie to her.

"Ah wanted ta believe you weren' jus' some creep, that ya really did do it for ya family, your father, an Ah _really_ wanted ta believe ya gave meh that card because ya felt bad f' takin' meh away from the people who watch over meh, but ya're a liar, Remy. Ya know ya are. An Ah've learn' not ta trust anybody but the people who ain' never lied ta me before," she said, her voice cold, and he nodded.

"I know. Y' were an unhappy girl, Rogue... Looks like some tings don' change," he said sadly, his eyes lowering to their joined hands.

"People _don'_ change. Ah've seen enough t' know that much. Ya can' tell meh y'all have been livin' on this side of the law f' three years?" He smiled bitterly.

"_Non_. 'M done lyin' t' y', Rogue. Ain' caused me notin' but aches in places I t'ought I didn' have no more an' 'm done. Dere ain' notin' I can say t' y' except like y' said y'self back den, I do de wrong tings f' de righ' reasons an' it bites me in de ass later..." His thumb was lightly stroking the back of her hand and she shivered.

"Y' so cold, _chere_..." he said quietly, and she nodded.

"After Apocalypse... Ah'm always cold." She shrugged and he looked at her intensely, his eyes a deep, bloody crimson.

"I wan'ed t' be dere," he said finally, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Easy ta say when it's all over," she cut back, and he grimaced.

"Hindsigh's always twen'y twen'y _chere_... I was afraid ta come back an' get turned down at de door." Rogue wrinkled her nose.

"We needed all the help we could get, why'd we turn you away?" she asked, as though she didn't believe a word he was saying. Truth was, she felt nothing but sincerity and regret flowing through the emotional siphoning process of her touching him, and she desperately wanted to believe. Surely he couldn't trick her that way? There was no way he could conjure false emotions for her to suck out of him, she was sure of it. He smiled at her, his eyes burning with self-contempt.

"T'ought y'd wan' me t' stay a million miles away from y', _chere_. Didn't wan' t' come back an' find out y'd rather I'd stayed gone... I don' know why it mean' so much dat y' didn' hate me but it did. I was shit scared y'd turn me away. Not y' buddies, y'..." She made a 'pysh' noise, blowing that errant strand of white out of her eyes and fixed him with a suspicious look.

"Lahke Ah believe that. The great Remy LeBeau, Prince of Bull, feelin' bad about comin' back here an' facin' the Rogue. Yeah. Raght. An' don' even try an' tell meh y'all would ever faght f' free, that ain' the way you work sugah an' we both know that," she said scornfully, and he winced.

"_Dieu_, where's de _ange_ who sang t' _moi_? Alrigh', y' win, dat's who I am, jus' a piece o' shit t'ief from N'Awlins who loves de easy way out more n' anytin' in de worl' an' wouldn' lif' a finger t' help someone in need unless dey could fron' de cash f' my services. Y' happy? Dat's who I am. Dat's **all** I am. Y' get y' way, _chere_..." he said, his eyes flashing in time with the waves of resentment and anger she felt coming in through their connection, a tide of bitterness and – sorrow? Rejection? She bit her lip and was about to apologise for being so harsh – she could feel that he had hoped, wanted her to think differently, to have forgiven maybe just a little for the old wrongs done – when he took his hand from hers and broke the line of little pink sparkles.

"'M sorry y' hate m' so much, _chere_. Y' shouldn' have t' touch m' when y' fel dat way. I'll live," he mumbled, and she grabbed his hand and was almost overcome by the strength of the anger she felt through him, some of it almost seemed to be her own and she was frightened by the intensity of it until she realised some of it _was_ her own. She was angry that things hadn't been different, angry that he hadn't sought her out before, angry that he was angry with himself, angry that he was being poisoned by the abilities he had worked so hard to turn into gifts...

"Y'all gimme back that hand _raght_ now ya damn stupid Cajun! Ah may not be drainin' y' memories but Ah can feel ev'rythang you're feelin' an' Ah wan' ya ta quit it raght now, you hearin' me? You won' live if Ah don' help you an' ta help you Ah gotta touch you an' even if Ah _did_ hate yo' skinny, gumbo-eatin' ass there's no way Ah'd jus' sit back an' let ya blow yaself ta kingdom come! So ya better jus' pack up the pity-party an' live with it because until you're better Ah'm stuck here with you an' that's all there is to it!" she yelled, his eyes growing wider and the shock she felt slam into her from him mingled with a growing relief she wondered if he even wanted her to be able to feel.

"Y' – y' don' hate me?" he asked, his tone that of someone who needs to be completely, utterly certain of something under pain of death.

"Course Ah don' hate you... Y'all never hurt meh, did ya? Y' used meh an' Ah got mad, but you said you were sorry an' ya did what ya did for a good reason. Y' even took pretty good care of meh on that train... Ah never hated you, Remy. Ah was angry that y'all never came back. Ya maght as well have died for all Ah knew. Ah jus thought... the way we parted an' all... that y' maght be comin' back..." she trailed off rather lamely, and he stared at her in complete shock. It reflected in the emotional pull she felt, relief changing to shock changing back to relief. And hope. More hope. Where the hell did he get off dredging up so much hope?! Rogue had no hope, what did he think he was doing hoping for anything? Hope was futile, hope was foolish more than anything else and she wanted to tell him, to kill it. It didn't show in his eyes though. And hope was only dangerous if you could see it in a man's eyes.

"_Chere_, I wan'ed t' come back t' y', make it righ', but I didn' know how an' I t'ought y' wouldn' wan' 'a see me again. Dat, an' de Wolverine would prob'ly gut me if I came anywhere near y' again. I am so, so sorry, _chere_... I didn' wan' t' face de rejection... Can y' hones'y say y' would have listened t' me?" She shrugged, pushing her hair out of her face roughly, and it swept in front of her eyes again almost immediately.

"Ah don' know, Ah mean, Ah was mad, sure, but it was a rough tahme, Ah would've gotten over it... If y'all had been there t' help with Apocalypse an' the battle an' all... Ah think Ah would have given y' a second chance ta not be such an ass..." He smiled a little, shifting so he could push her bangs behind her ear. They stayed there and she felt vulnerable without the shield of her hair.

"An' now, _chere?_ Do I get a chance t' prove dat ain' all I am..?" His hand lingered on her face like his words lingered in the air between them and she felt caught, trapped. She'd thought touch was liberating. It had never ocurred to her that it could cage as well as free.

"Dat's if y' can stan' m' skinny gumbo-eatin' ass," he added, a twinkle in his eye, and she reached up and shoved his hand off her cheek.

"Lucky Ah don' have ta look at it, do Ah? Not while you're jus' lyin' roun' here all day..." she said, doing a little twinkling of her own for all her voice was hard, and she felt a thread of longing shooting through his emotions. Likely he was getting tired of lying around all day and wanted to get up for a while.

"Don' have much choice now do I _chere_? Gotta stay put 'til I ain' a liability no more," he said with a shrug, and she smiled, an idea forming in her head.

"Ah think Ah could find a way ta get you out an' about a little if that's what y'all really wan'," she laughed, and he grinned at her, although he barely had to when she could feel how pleased he was already.

"Don' tink I ever fel' so happy ta be invited **out** of bed by a _belle femme, chere_," he teased, and she slapped his arm.

"Don' think Ah'll be doin' y'all any favors if y' can' remember ta treat meh the way ya should, Remy LeBeau," she snapped. He bowed his head and she felt a twinge of regret and – shame? from him.

"_Pardonnement, ma chere_, ain' used t' bein' round a real lady, y' understand," he said apologetically, reeking of contrition, and she tossed her hair out and huffed.

"Ah don' know t' feel sorry f' you or ta be disgusted, Ah really don', but when y'all are around meh ya best remember your manners," she warned, and he nodded, bending over her hand and brushing it lightly with his lips. It was barely even a touch but she felt it as deeply as it she'd been pierced by a needle.

"Get y' clothes on, Cajun," she said to cover up her embarrassment, jerking her hand away from him and standing up.

"If y'all aren' done in three minutes Ah'm comin' in t' get you an' it won' matter how far y' got, that's how you'll be goin'," she added, and he sat up properly and watched her leave, waiting until she was by the stainless steel door and had her hand on the knob before even moving to lift the covers. She smiled, knowing he knew she was watching him in the polished metal surface.

"Better, Swamp Rat, better," she said softly as she opened the door and closed it behind her to the sound of swishing sheets.

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	5. Part 5

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything except a prescription for migraine pills that work wonders but cost hundreds - literally - and a bunch of t-shirts that are totally covered in some weird red substance that looks like oil paint and won't come off no matter how much I scream and bully and ask my mother to fix it. I don't own any red oil paint anymore, seeing as how it's apparently all on my clothes. Convenient, non?**_

_**(*in my James Mason voice*** And on the** *turns around and whispers*** what bloody day is it? Oh, never mind, let's just get on with it!** *turns back round to face audience and strikes messianic pose* **On the mmphhmmtralalammpphhmmhmmth day, Valkyrien created a new chapter of WHO KNEW? and then decided to sit back and wait for reviews, perhaps from these people; **LadyMageLuna, Irual, AshmandaLC, KHwhitelion, Melissa Black13, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, Hawaiichick, ovoriel, Fostersb, b.a.n.h.s.f.c.., anon goddess, TitansRule and aiRo25; **who have before let it be known that all has been well done, and who have been duly thanked and made aware of the saintliness of their beings and just how much it is appreciated. If anyone needs me, I'll be indisposed. Ciao. ***takes off on hairdryer*)**_

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_**Who Knew?**_

_Part 5_

He'd always known there were a great many students living at the Institute, just as he'd known that their numbers were likely to have swelled during his time away, but he had never before appreciated just what it was like to be in a place so large that could somehow still feel so incredibly crowded simply due to the addition of a few teenagers here and there. Walking down a hallway they were met by a young boy with messy brown hair who was giving chase to a large russet hound that seemed to be almost smiling and although the boy grinned at Rogue and waved, he neither slowed in his pursuit nor stared at Remy as he passed them. Rogue's own smile made the Cajun feel the need to know more, so he raised an eyebrow in question.

"Jamie an' Rahne – she left for a while when we were rebuildin' this place an' he's still one of our youngest students. She came back a few months ago and Ah guess they missed each other," she explained, and he nodded in understanding. Most of these children were either not on good terms with their families or simply living apart from them in order to ease their lives, perhaps to return at some later date when they had more control over their abilities and were not so likely to be exposed for what they were. It was only natural they develop familial relationships with those around them who knew what it was to be as they were. Bigotry and hatred were after all universal plagues...

"Rogue!" They were hailed by a dark-haired girl of average height and unnaturally muscular build, as they entered what appeared to be a very large kitchen with adjacent dining area, who was sitting at the counter with a slightly smaller girl who seemed a little older and whose sparkling blue eyes seemed awfully familiar...

"Gambit, like, hey!" And his smile widened involuntarily.

"_Petite! Comment __ça va?_" he asked, as she hopped off her stool and approached them, giving him a light hug before smiling brilliantly and saying,

"I'm like, fantastic! And you must be feeling lots better since you're out of bed and all – that reminds me, Rogue, you promised to like, help Laura with her homework tonight because Lance is taking me out to dinner, can you still do that? Because he'll totally understand if I have to cancel!" Rogue looked past Kitty at the younger girl who was looking at Remy with an odd, steely expression in her eyes, as though she were assessing him. It was almost a soldiers gaze, he thought, and he was suddenly glad that he was holding Rogue's hand – bare, a safety measure taken to ensure no more accidents and no relapsing until he was safely back in the med bay – although why a little girl should cause him any apprehension he couldn't say.

"Y' still wit' Rocky den, _petite?_ Remy always knew dere was sometin' special dere," he said, smiling at Kitty to distract himself from the other girl's unyielding stare, and Kitty grinned proudly and writhed in embarrassment and ill-concealed pleasure at the statement.

"Yeah, we're like, engaged – " she thrust forward her dainty little hand whereupon rested a tasteful silver band with little diamond inlays circling it, and he winked at her.

"_Tres belle, petite_, Remy sees why y' said yes," he flattered her, and she giggled.

"Like, turn off the charm already, I'm taken! And yeah, we're getting married when I'm done with my studies – I've got it all planned out," she said seriously, turning her attention back to Rogue.

"So can you help Laura tonight?" Rogue smiled, nodding, and transferred her own attention to the girl who was still watching them quietly from her seat at the counter.

"Laura honey why don't ya come over here an' say hello t' mah new handbag?" she called, a laugh audible in her voice, and the girl approached with an odd expression on her face, as though she did not quite understand.

"Handbag? You are not carrying a bag, Rogue," she said, with puzzlement layering her tone, and Rogue smiled softly.

"It was just a joke, sugah, seein' as how Ah'm totin' aroun' this 'ere Cajun," she explained, and Remy was honestly intrigued by the way the girl seemed to have not grasped Rogue's meaning.

"I see – he is the one you and the Professor went to get in New Orleans?" Rogue nodded.

"Sure is, Laura, meet Remy, Cajun card-thrower and sneak thief extraordinaire - Remy, this is Laura, she's mahne an' Kurt's adopted sister," Rogue introduced, and Remy smiled at the girl and said,

"Pleased t' meet y' _petite_," to which the girl replied by sniffing twice in his general direction and nodding.

"You are the one Logan told me about. You kidnapped Rogue once, before I knew her. Do not do that again, or my sister's new handbag shall be specially made by us," she said with a little smile, and Kitty laughed and shook her head at Remy.

"Don't take any of her threats seriously Remy, she's really a good kid – she just takes after her Dad a little too much sometimes!" the phaser's genuinely fond smile was almost enough to dispel Remy's apprehensions but not his curiosity.

"Her _pere?_" Rogue smiled evilly.

"Logan's Laura's dad – after a fashion," she said coyly, and Laura nodded.

"I was cloned using Logan's DNA by the HYDRA organisation, to be the ultimate weapon. Once, I thought that it was Logan's fault that I had been created and that I had been so unhappy, but it was never his decision that I should be made. He did not know. Logan and the Professor took me in after I destroyed HYDRA, once I had decided to return here. This is my family now; Rogue and Kitty are my sisters, Kurt is my brother. Logan is my father. This is the only family I have ever had." Laura explained it all so calmly that Remy almost believed that he was okay with what he was hearing, but deep down his heart bled for the child. He doubted she was yet seventeen.

"Ah, _je comprende_," he murmured, before smiling at her.

"I am glad dat y' found dis place, petite. Dese are good people an' y' couldn' ask f' a better _famille_." Laura's sudden grin took him aback, the transformation of her features from coolly calculating to those of a happy, and frankly lovely young girl a little unsettling.

"I do not hate him, Rogue," she said, clearly pleased, and her 'sister' laughed out loud.

"Well Ah'm sure glad y' don' sugah because he'll be stayin' with us for a while! Ya come see me later when y' need help with that homework, alraght? Ah'll be in mah room or in the med bay," she chuckled, the richness of her voice enhanced by the aftermath of mirth.

"Okay, I will. If you are going outside, wear your jacket. It is snowing," Laura advised before slipping off somewhere. Kitty waved at them before leaving the same way Laura had, and Remy looked sideways at a Rogue who seemed happier than he had seen her in a long, long time.

"She's a good girl," he said quietly, and she beamed at him.

"Don' Ah jus' know it. Sometahmes she's difficult – has a hard tahme fittin' in around here with normal kids, but she's tryin'," Rogue said, the pride in her eyes obvious.

"She's lucky t' have y', _chere_. Y' of all people understand how hard it can be," he observed, and she shrugged, leading him towards the kitchen door, momentarily relinquishing his hand as she took her trench coat off the peg by the door and slipped it on. The sudden absence of her skin against his was unpleasant. He missed it.

"Well c'mon then Swamp Rat – it's snowing..." she said, taking his hand again and pulling him outside into the cold white day that reminded him again of the soft skin resting against his palm and under his fingers.

"So, are ya feelin alragh' now we out – " she was halfway through the question just as they were halfway out of the door when a large wet snowball collided with the side of her head and whirled round to see whose bright idea it had been. A blonde youth in a blue parka and snowy gloves was pinned by the Rogue's angry glare and began to stutter.

"Uh – Rogue! I – uh – look dude I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to – " His apologising was cut short by a barrage of snowballs assailing him from behind and a group of teenagers charged him from over the snowy ridge that Remy could now see was a battered snow fort. A young girl with black hair astride the blonde lad's chest, busy smashing snow into his face, paused to salute Rogue and yell,

"We'll take him from here, _chica!_" and Rogue grinned and waved at her.

"Fahne by meh Jubes," she called back, taking Remy's arm in a firm grip and steering him away towards a quieter path, away from all the hullabaloo.

"Who are dey, _chere?_" he asked, mildly interested, and the Gothic girl shrugged as if she would rather pretend they didn't exist.

"Jus' X-kids. They're supposed ta be lahke us except younger, not so experienced – most of them ain' even outta high school yet. The one who got meh with that damn snowball's Scott's kid brother, Alex," she said, her tone indicating that she wished to change the subject.

"Seems like dere are more unfamiliar faces roun' here dis time dan familiar," he said casually, and to his surprise she stopped abruptly, and let go of his hand.

"What were you expectin' exactly, huh? Ya thought it would all be jus' the same? Ya thought me an' Kit would still be in school, that nothin' would have changed around here at all? How dumb are ya, Cajun? It's been _three_ years! _Years!_ Not weeks or months, years! What had you imagined it would be lahke?!" She was shouting, clearly upset, and he couldn't for the life of him understand what he had done to cause this other than remark on a few new faces here and there. But perhaps that was it. If he had been around, he would know... He'd know them all. He'd know Laura, and Alex, Jubes... Everyone and everything. Instead it was like he was just a temporary guest in their lives, practically a tourist, observing them as if for the first time, someone who had come into things unexpectedly and would be leaving as soon as he could. He wasn't an old friend, he wasn't even an old foe anymore, they'd come so far past that that he had become something new that simply reminded them all of someone they had once briefly met, someone who had long since passed into the realms of forgetfulness, of disinterest. And Rogue looked so hurt...

"_Chere, je suis desolé,_ okay? I didn' tink – I didn' tink it would matter dat I don' know what y' been up t' all dis time, but I wanna know – I wanna know ev'rytin' about y', ev'rytin' y' been doin', who all de kids are – I don' wanna be jus' some dead mem'ry walkin' aroun' de place. Dat ain' fair t' y' – not when y' doin' all dis f' me..." She'd crossed her arms following her outburst and she was pouting – something that would have been devastatingly adorable if she hadn't been glaring at him.

"Ah jus' don' see why ya care about any of this when ya gonna be leavin' the second ya get well again – runnin' back t' N'Awlins lahke ya damn trench coat's a' burnin'. Why should Ah tell ya 'bout mah fam'ly an' what's goin' on with meh when y' ain' gonna stick aroun' anyway. Ah'm not with you ragh' now because Ah wanna be, Remy – Ah'm here t' make sure you get better so you can get the hell outta here again," she said angrily, and he sighed.

"_Chere_, I already tol' y', I'm sorry f' cuttin' on y' – I should 'a been here wit' y' but I wasn' an' I can' keep sayin' I'm sorry f' dat when y' won' let me prove dat I won' jus' be leavin' like I did las' time roun'... I'm here now an' I wan' a chance t' make dis righ' again. Y' gotta give me a chance, Rogue. How else can I prove t' y' dat I made a mistake back den?" Her demeanour shifted instantly, going from anger to indifference in half a second, and she grabbed his hand roughly and began to walk, forcing him to stagger a little to keep up with her sudden moves.

"Whatever, Swamp Rat. Maybe y' should jus' stop talkin' altogether an' then y' won' be makin' meh mad so much," she muttered, and he lowered his eyes to the pristine ground, acknowledging the lost battle, and mumbled,

"Anytin' y' say, _chere_..."

_**~****************************************************************~**_

He could feel her anxiety, but as they walked on through white-laden trees and the thickly falling snow, another emotion surfaced, dim at first but growing with every step she took. Sorrow. He said nothing, hoping she would speak first, but she stayed silent, keeping herself a little ahead of him at all times, as though she were trying to ignore the fact that she was not alone, that she was still relentlessly dragging him along by the hand which she was gripping so convulsively he reckoned he'd have marks later on if he checked. They came abruptly to a little clearing, the lack of shelter from the trees making it difficult to see for the thick, swirling flakes of snow drifting about in the air, but he made out the outline of a gazebo a short way away, and this was apparently their destination, for she steered them towards it with a purpose in her stride that was only belied by the burgeoning guilt and fear he could sense in her.

"Rogue..." His voice was unsure, as hesitant as he felt, and he wasn't even certain what it was he wanted to say to her other than he wanted to be released from the overwhelming emotions flowing from her only a little less than he wanted her to be released from them. She set foot on the deck of the structure and turned to face him.

"This is where it happened, you know," she said quietly, and he looked out over the drop beyond her, suddenly understanding.

"Mystique," he said, stating, not asking, and she nodded, letting go of his hand to wrap her arms around herself as though in a hug.

He felt momentarily grateful that the waves of sadness she was generating weren't as strongly felt now as they had been when their hands had still been joined but that was quickly smothered in his own guilt at even feeling relieved. He couldn't begin to understand the hurt she felt at being here, the memories of what she had done clinging to the very air she breathed at this spot – memories that would likely remain as fresh and poignant as they were now for the rest of her life. He had no right to be relieved that he wasn't feeling it as deeply as she was right now – he had taken advantage of this pain before and he half wondered if she hadn't brought him here to see how he would react to that revelation. The hurt in her eyes, in her silence, was the same hurt he had used against her all those years ago to manipulate her into doing his will, and now he was feeling the pain she had felt, raw and cutting. And he knew that he deserved it. He hadn't pushed Mystique off a cliff – he'd done other things similar to that in his illustrious career as a general all-round villain – but he felt as choked as if he had murdered his own mother just the same. He wondered briefly if the pain had abated somewhat or grown at the learning that Mystique was still very much alive for the young woman in front of him, and realised that if he himself had thought he had been responsible for the death of his mother – however much he might have hated the woman – if he had later found out that she was still alive he would have felt a thousand times worse.

"She wasn' a mother to meh, an' she wasn' a mother to Kurt either – Kurt's German parents are the sweetest people alahve an' they loved him the way a mom an' dad should. Ah met them las' Chris'mas – Professor X flew them up here so we could be a fam'ly on the big day... Kurt's mom said she wished she could'a foun' meh along with him..." Rogue's voice broke suddenly and although he couldn't hear her sobbing, he couldn't restrain himself from stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her either, in the hug she shouldn't ever have to give herself.

"It's okay, _chere_... All dese people love y', y' got y' very own fam'ly righ' here an' dey'd all do anytin' f' y'... Dat blue bitch don' matter agains' dat kind o' love..." She allowed him to hold her as they stood in the snow, the roof of the gazebo not protecting them from the way the icy stuff whirled around them, whipping their coats about and stinging their cheeks as if the flakes were really just minute daggers instead of harmless particles of frozen water borne on the wind.

"Ah'm not cryin', Swamp Rat," she said in a tone that was only a half-hearted warning, and he shrugged, smiling subtly.

"Never said y' were, _chere_... Jus' holdin' y' 'cause I'm gettin' cold out here an' I wan'ed t' steal y' heat... I'm not used t' all dis snow like y'self," he said lightly, and she pulled away from him, concern in her overly liquid eyes.

"We should prob'ly be gettin' back – y' haven' been outta bed yet before this an' Ah don' wanna have ta listen to Dr McCoy if this makes you worse," she said seriously, and he grinned.

"Don' worry _chere_. I feel fine," he assured her, and she took his hand and fixed her bangs with a derisive snort.

"Ah ain' interested in how fahne y' are, Cajun..."

_**~**************************************************************~**_

The hot chocolate burned his tongue but he swallowed it down nonetheless, intrigued by the oddities around him. Upon returning to the mansion, the door had been opened for them by a motherly Storm who had insisted they join the triumphant snowball warriors in the living room for hot chocolate and scones, and although Rogue had protested that he'd tire himself out, Remy accepted the offer eagerly. Here was a chance to see the people Rogue lived with every day – her family. A chance to be more than the weird, out of control mutant patient confined to the bowels of the Institute for treatment and recovery. Not to mention the fact that he had been feeling decidedly out of touch with reality since his moment with Rogue at the gazebo and wanted a taste of the real world before he accepted his return to the med bay for some rest. And so here he was, sitting extremely close to Rogue, sipping hot chocolate and observing the people around him with nothing short of wonder. Professor X really had managed to make his dream – a haven for mutants, no matter their abilities or difficulties – a reality, and Remy was incredibly pleased that he had.

Kitty had left to get ready for her date with Lance, so she wasn't there to make his entrance into their midst easier, but Rogue managed to smooth his way by glaring at the 'open-mouthed starers' and smiling wearily at those who apparently knew what was going on. The girl from earlier – Laura, he recalled – had entered the room shortly after they had and was perched on the armrest of Wolverine's large, overstuffed armchair, both hands cradling her purple mug as she laughed and joked with what was easily the most aggressive and short-tempered man Remy had ever met. The oddest thing was that even if he had not known that Laura was Logan's 'daughter', it would have been easy enough to tell – the way he looked at the girl, laughed with her, it was exactly the same way in which he had always responded to Rogue. Remy noticed that Laura was actually not very tall and was now wearing an oversized, worn black hoodie bearing the faded white depiction of what appeared to be a mistreated corpse under a spiky, chaotic heading that might have read 'Carcass' and some other text that he could not quite make out from where he was sitting. Her bottom lip was pierced in the middle, the silver ring winking in the light from the fireplace, and her black trousers were embellished with o-rings down either side from hip to knee. Her boots were black and scuffed, and he vaguely recalled seeing Rogue once in a very similar pair, and he wondered if perhaps they were hand-me-downs. They certainly had that old-but-well-loved look to them. In fact, most of what she was wearing had that look to it – her 'sister's' influence, no doubt, or simply Rogue's wardrobe being extensive enough to accommodate Laura as well as the Southern Belle. Secretly, he was not a little ecstatic that Rogue was still very much the same as she had been when he had gotten to know her. It proved consistency of character, as well as generally suiting her down to the ground.

Looking around he saw a lad of roughly nineteen sitting with a pleasant-looking dark-skinned, dark-haired girl who could well be Brazilian or some such by the window, her fingers busy stroking his brown mop of hair as he spoke quietly in her ear, eliciting a giggle every once in a while. In front of the fireplace lay the large dog he had seen earlier, but the boy who'd been chasing it was in another chair nearby, sharing it with a very young girl with thick, curly chestnut hair who was enshrouded in a black shirt many sizes too big for her and wearing very large gloves that resembled the kind used for heavy gardening, albeit seemingly made from soft black leather – new and shining. From Remy's perspective it appeared that they were communicating via sign language, the boy taking care to be as close to the girl as possible without touching her, and Remy could clearly see the look of adoration in his eyes and the way his attention remained exclusively on the girl's face and hands. Ah, young love... The scenario playing out between them caught at something inside him and he paused to give it thought. The way she was decked out, the gloves, the way she was covered up, right down to the flinch when the boy got too close – it reminded him of Rogue. He wondered if this child had powers reminiscent of Rogue's, or if they were quite different and required the same level of precaution only. And then he wondered if Rogue had ever been sitting in the same overstuffed armchair as a young man who was clearly infatuated with her, desperately trying to avoid physical touch while communicating all the same, oblivious to the efforts of the poor youth beside her...

She was sitting with him in one of these convenient, room-for-two, snuggly, cushioned affairs, leaning into his side as she sipped her hot chocolate with one hand, the other casually resting atop his on his black-clad thigh. He could smell the perfume of her hair, feel her breathing against him, slowly, deeply, as though she were sleepy or just very comfortable, and his empathy was letting him gauge the level of her comfort accurately. She was at peace apart from a little thing that seemed to nag at the periphery of her emotional sphere as she surveyed the people lounging around them, mingling, the familial air of the situation a cosy blanket of safety lying over them all. She sighed minutely – he only knew because of their proximity to one another – and he allowed himself to submerge his mind in the flow of her emotions for a while. It was... soothing... to feel the same as she was feeling. Usually his empathy was either useful or annoying, and certainly he never felt particularly fantastic when he was reading the mood of someone else or sifting through their emotions, but wallowing in her emotional output was strangely calming. Almost soporific. He tried to put it down to the fact that she was perpetually linked to him via the draining effect of her powers, the flow and feed-off of that amplifying the effects of his empathy and causing this, but he couldn't shake the notion that it wasn't anything to do with their situation or the interference of their powers. It was simply being this close to Rogue that felt good...

He felt the rush of surprise and joy in her before he felt her jerk up and into a standing position as she cried out in what was definitely not unhappiness and the room resounded with an echoing _~bampf~ _and was treated to an unpleasant, sulphuric odour as she was suddenly wrapped in what appeared to be a tall, muscular, furry blue demon with an impressive tail who was competing with her for 'loudest overjoyed squeal of the month' and twirling her around at the same time.

"Roguey!"

"Kurt! Ah'm so glad you're alraght, Ah was that worried an' all – "

"Don't worry about it, I'm just glad you're okay!"

"You're better now, raght? Ah mean, you're all healed up?" she checked him over, holding him at arms length and he flashed blindingly white fangs at her and nodded.

"Fit as a fiddle – and less stiff," he joked, and she swatted his arm playfully.

"Ya great lump," she cooed, hugging him again and kissing his cheek as he went a delicate purple colour and rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, _Liebling_, I'm **fine**," he said, emphasising the word fine heavily, and she smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Alraght, alraght – jus' promise meh you'll say hey to Amanda from meh an' don' do anythin' strenuous over there – Ah don' need you lyin' aroun' down that sick bay anymore makin' meh feel all guilty an' whatnot," she said with a raised finger, and he bowed gracefully, saluting with his tail.

"As mein _Lieblingsschwester_ commands," he said seriously, before teleporting off with that strange _~bampf~_ noise and the cloud of smoke the only indicators that he was ever there. Rogue moved to sit back down beside Remy, but was hailed by the dark-haired girl, Jubes, that Remy remembered as being especially fierce with her snowballing prowess, who popped her head out from behind a sofa and waggled her eyebrows comically at the Southern Belle.

"Hey _chica_, how do you always know when that brother of yours is going to see Amanda?" she asked with a grin, and Rogue shrugged.

"He brushes his fur, that's all Ah can tell ya Jubes. Doesn' Angie do somethin' special when he's goin' out with you?" The tease in Rogue's voice was apparently not meant for Jubes, but rather for the owner of the muffled and indignant voice from behind the sofa that called,

"It's Angelo! _Angelo!_" Jubes' thrilled expression caused Remy to believe this Angelo could well be her significant other and she giggled and dove back behind the sofa with such enthusiasm that he hardly needed his theory confirmed any further than that. Rogue plopped down next to Remy again and curled her fingers around his before settling against him and sighing contentedly. A petite blonde girl walked in closely followed by a small boy with greenish-grey skin and a prominent forehead, whose large eyes swept the room with interest before lighting up at the sight of Rogue, who was too busy immersing herself completely in the worship of her hot chocolate. The child seemed to notice this and smiled happily, following the girl to the dog lying in front of the fire and sitting with her by it's side, stroking the reddish fur and speaking softly to it. Remy wondered vaguely whose children they were – the girl couldn't be more than twelve and the boy must be about that too. It didn't seem important enough to focus on though and he felt himself slipping into a doze, his eyes feeling incredibly heavy as he leant into Rogue and closed the delicate red and black organs.

* * *

To whom it may concern (read: to anyone who made it this far without closing the window in disgust that shite like this is actually legal and freely available to young, impressionable children) : GO AND READ ANY DAMN THING ON EITHER ANON GODDESS' OR ASHMANDALC'S PROFILES OR LIVE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT YOU SIR - no, I dont care that you're wearing ladies undergarments and call yourself female, as Monty Python, Little Britain, and countless people whom I unfortunately know intimately have shown us, that's no guarantee - HAVE MISSED OUT. BIG TIME. TAKE THE SHAME.


	6. Part 6

_**DISCLAIMER: None of the characters mentioned are mine but everything else is.**_

_Right. Things have been happening since last I served up some o' this for y'all, things I won't go into detail about now, but I am back and this is an update. To those of you who reviewed last time and are still reading you have to know by now how much I appreciate you – the replies, the swooning Author Notes thanking you again again again, the waffling about how wonderful you all are at any given opportunity – but in case you're in doubt, I do love you and appreciate you all immensely. I couldn't be prouder or more inspired when I read some of the amazing feedback you've given me over time, and I hope I can continue to please. To those of you who are reading and choose not to review – and I know you're out there, statistics don't lie in this case and I've seen all your Alert mails so I know who you all are (except the anonymous non-alerting lurkers) – you are missing out on the love and affection showered upon my faithful reviewers and if you want a piece of it, delurk and let me know why you're following this fic and what you want from it or just what you feel I've done for you so far. To my Larky and my punkin' pie – they know who they are – you are so special and speaking to you has helped me write this in so many ways all through the process so thank you so very much and stay awesome. The rest of you are just as dear to me and I hope you're all still safe and well and ready to tell me how badly I suck if that's the case XD_

_**_____________________________________________________________________**_

_**Who Knew?**_

_Part 6_

_**~**************************************************************~**_

He was rather rudely awoken by someone shaking him roughly by the shoulders. Thinking for a moment that he was dreaming, he swatted at them, was slapped sharply across the face, which induced the powers of hearing, and tuned in to what sounded awfully like a mixture of –

" – Christ, ya can' jus' _hit_ him lahke that!"

"He knows what he's doing honey, calm down."

"Will ya bloody wake up ya daft bugger?!" Remy's eyes snapped open at the first coherent trace of the once so familiar brogue assaulting his ears, and was met by the sight of one St. John Allerdyce, the purveyor of hard awakenings, hands firmly attached to Remy's coat-front. Behind him, a serene Wanda was restraining a half-heartedly worried Rogue. The lights were dim, but not unpleasantly so.

"An' here we go," John said happily, letting go of Remy who was dropped back into the armchair in which he now realised he'd been asleep with some force, and standing back a little to look at him.

"Bloody hell mate – ya look terrible," he accused, and Remy sat up slowly, brushing his errant bangs out of his eyes and looking at his long-lost friend with some apprehension.

"...'m not well, _mon ami_," he explained hesitantly, still confused as to how the Aussie even came to be there, and John scowled at him.

"I know _that_, my only question is why the 'ell I had ta hear it from this lot!" he said, sounding almost hurt, and Wanda smiled, clearly amused.

"He missed you, Cajun," she said with apparent disregard for her – her what? Lover's? Husband's? – injured look at her, and Remy looked her up and down.

"Y' get married or sometin' while I was away, _pyrophore?_" he asked John, and the Aussie smirked in a way that told him more than he thought comfortable knowing when not fully awake yet.

"Workin' on that part," he said quietly in a sideways manner, and Remy closed his eyes briefly in recognition of his friend's wish to keep certain cards from certain players for now.

"What de hell y' both doin' here?" he asked instead, and Rogue crossed her arms and tossed her hair, but with a smile that told him she wasn't angry so much as amused at the way they'd made him aware of their presence.

"They crashed chocolate-tahme an' Storm let 'em stay as long as they didn' disturb you – she went ta bed a while ago an' Ah guess this is what the kids get up to when Mom's away," she mock-huffed, and Wanda – giggled? John's head whipped round to observe the strange occurrence, and Wanda ceased her giggling and gave him an unmistakably sultry look. The Aussie straightened his back and turned back to Remy with a decidedly odd look on his own face, and Remy once again had to decide to overlook this new level of weird they'd apparently obtained in his extended absence.

"Crashin' choc'late tahme? Y' kids got no shame?" he teased, and John shrugged.

"I was told there'd be cookies. Ya know I can' resist a good cookie," he excused himself, and Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Can' resist a _tough_ cookie either," she mocked, and Wanda laughed raucously, John nodding his acquiescence to Rogue's statement.

"Only the one, Sheila, only the one," he specified, and Rogue shrugged.

"Get me up," Remy demanded, and John grabbed him just over the wrist and pulled him up easily, Remy staggering a bit. Rogue was instantly by his side, steadying him and taking his hand as she did so, and he smiled down at her gratefully.

"Ya go on a diet or somethin'?" John mocked good-naturedly, and Remy shrugged, noting how Wanda had taken the chance to curl herself around John's arm, to all intents and purposes looking like a natural extension of his person.

"Nah, jus' had a li'l power surge, notin' major," Remy said offhandedly, and Rogue rolled her eyes at Wanda again.

"Ah swear ta Gawd, ya're all a bunch o' little boys posturin' lahke that – Remy you're sick as a dog an' ya know it," she said sternly, and Remy let his head hang a little.

"_Je sais, ma chere..._" he said meekly, and she nodded.

"Don't ya forget it either." Wanda gave Rogue a significant look and then pulled away from John, putting an arm around her Southern friend and leading her away with the words,

"You and me need to catch up, sweetheart..." Once the girls were safely out of the room, Remy let his eyes meet John's.

"How ya been?" the Aussie asked sincerely, and Remy shrugged.

"Dyin', mos'ly... Rogue's been savin' my ass," he admitted, and John nodded slowly.

"She rang Wanda," he said.

"Told 'er?"

"Ev'rythin'. Those Sheilas stick t'gether like ya wouldn' believe. Wanda told me ya were up here – said it looked bad. Had ta come make sure they were doin' righ' by ya." Remy shifted.

"Guess it didn' look _dat_ bad... _Ma Tante_ rang de Institute, asked dem t' take me before I died or blew up de state..." John's smile was wry, but not unsympathetic.

"New powers or jus' enhanced?"

"Enhanced. Organic material, now." John shook his head.

"Jesus fuckin' Chris'mas..." he exhaled, and Remy looked him square in the eyes.

"De fuzzy blue elf? Rogue almos' blew dat boy t' Kingdome Come 'cause o' my powers," he said quietly, and John winced.

"Ya know that ain' your fault, mate. Righ'? She chose ta help ya. Wanda told me she had doubts after some acciden' but I had no idea it was anythin' like that..."

"Dat girl nearly killed her _frere_ 'cause o' me, Johnny. An' she's still here, helpin' _moi._" John grinned at Remy's doomsday tone and reached out, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Well no worries! I've nearly killed Wanda's ol' man an her brother more times n' I'm countin' ta, an' she ain' left me yet - course, can' say I'd stick aroun' f' your skinny Cajun arse, mate, but there ain' no accountin' f' taste I s'pose!" he laughed, and Remy cracked a smile.

"Guess I ain' los' de charm, _hein?_"

"Guess not, mate..."

_**~**************************************************************~**_

"So how are things between you?" Wanda's eyes were nothing if not compassionate, and the hand she held in hers was bare but for the soft blue glow of the Witch's powers. Rogue was infinitely grateful to her friend for the simple gesture. It meant so much to her that Wanda would bother to concentrate her gifts into being able to touch the Southern Belle, but Wanda didn't even mention it, so Rogue never did either after the initial surprise of finding out that the Witch could do it. Right now, her touch was even more than just a simple gesture of her presence; she was effectively 'recharging' Rogue with her pretty blue sparks, and to an exhausted Rogue, it felt every bit like the magic John claimed it was.

"Aw hell, Ah don' know!" she expelled with all the pouty frustration of any teenage girl.

"You don't know?"

"Ah mean Ah don' know what to think, Wanda – Ah mean, we're together all the tahme, he's sleepin' most of the tahme anyway, an' when he is awake he wants ta talk about the past an' Ah jus' don't wanna do that," Rogue said quickly, sounding petulant and tired, and Wanda squeezed her hand gently.

"Honey, he's going through a serious power surge, the sleeping part's normal – you remember John practically hibernated? I had to hex him to stop him burning the damn house down when he had a dream," the Witch snorted, and Rogue tittered at the memories.

"Like some goddamn dragon or something," Wanda added, and Rogue grinned at her.

"Ah guess – John was awful. Acted lahke a five year old," she recalled, and Wanda sighed.

"When is he not five years old?"

"True... But really, all this talkin' about the old days an' all that, Ah jus' don' wanna get into it. It's done, it's buried, it's over," she said firmly, and Wanda shrugged.

"Just because we think a topic's cold in its grave does not mean guys have forgotten about it honey," she said, and Rogue shrugged.

"Ah keep fergettin' ya live with a bunch of 'em."

"You get used to hexing the kitchen before you go in," Wanda said, dismissive,

"But he wants to talk about the past? What parts?"

"Well, he feels bad about leavin' us back then and he wants meh ta understand that he didn' wanna go an' a bunch of other shit... Ah'm too tahred ta deal with his repentance thang. I jus' need a good naght's sleep, ya know?" Wanda chewed her bottom lip for a second, then smiled.

"I think I can help you there, honey. Let Wanda take care of it, okay?"

_**~**************************************************************~**_

"I guess y' been doin' pretty good since I lef' y, _hein?_" he asked softly, and the Aussie shrugged, grinning.

"Been doin' alrigh'. Had a little power surge of me own – must 'a been a while back now – an' I got through that okay." Remy raised an eyebrow.

"How many times did y' set de house on fire?" he asked seriously, and John appeared to do some private calculations.

"Thir'y... six? No, I'm fibbin' – sixty-three. Not countin' all the times I set fire ta random people on the street, Wanda's brother, the one-eyed wanker, an' the curtains in the livin' room," he said finally, and Remy shook his head.

"At leas' y' got dat red-eyed bastard," he sighed, and John smirked.

"More n' once. All them uniforms... gone forever... Got his Sheila's hair once too – my Wanda was in convulsions for hours afterwards..." he sounded dreamy at the reminiscence of how he had managed to render Jean page-boy'ed and whimpering as the Scarlet Witch laughed herself into next year.

"Bald?" Remy had to know, and John sighed.

"Sadly, no, but I sheared off most a' the blasted stuff – she accepted it when she decided the little bob made 'er look more grown-up an' less like some Disney slag," he said cheerily, and Remy laughed.

"An' did it?"

"Hell no – she looks like 'ell an' 'er Cyclist won' quit whinin' abou' how he really wen' for 'er 'cause of the 'air!" They shared a laugh at the implications of a mournful Scooter flipping through old photos of the Ariel-stand-in his woman had once been and trying to shield his thoughts so she wouldn't catch on just how disappointed he was that she'd lost a major part of her sex-appeal where he was concerned.

"Course, me an' Wanda have been keepin' Rogue busy, makin' sure she wasn' there ta be his shoulder ta cry on. Daft wanker made a drunk pass at her las' year an' Wanda had ta wipe his mem'ry." At Remy's questioning look, he explained,

"She's got a much better hold on 'er powers these days. There's just abou' no limits ta what she can do." Remy nodded.

"When y' said all dat time ago dat y' were gon' try an' get de Scarlet Witch t' marry y', I t'ought y'd gone insane f' real, y' know," he admitted, and John shrugged.

"Ev'ryone always says that..." he mused.

"She's a fantastic girl. I still want ta marry 'er," he said wistfully, and Remy smiled.

"Looks like de _petite friponne _migh' jus' say _oui_," he encouraged, and the Aussie laughed.

"Las' time I mentioned it she landed me in hospital mate – don' think I'm goin' there again for a while!"

"_Mon Dieu! L'hôpital?_ Y' sure y' okay wit' dat? Why'd she do dat?" the Cajun was scandalised, and the effect deepened when his friend just chuckled at the look on his face.

"Look, Rem', Wanda's a really... _passionate_ person – it's why we get on the way we do – an' she's got a lot o' hang-ups abou' fam'ly an' that. They'll never go away, an' she's tryin' really hard ta control them, but sometimes when she gets angry or upset, her control slips. A lot like mine does when I'm... you know... Anyhow, the point is, that if I spring somethin' like that on her, chances are she'll put me through a window again withou' really meanin' to, an' I hate it when she feels guilty," he said reasonably, and Remy sputtered.

"_Elle jeta tu par la fenêtre?!_"

"A second story window, no less," John agreed, and Remy raked a hand through his hair.

"_Merde_..."

"He was fine," Wanda's voice rang out, somehow still managing to sound soft and darkly amused,

"Just a few cuts and bruises, a dislocated shoulder – nothing a few blue sparks couldn't fix... Speaking of which, I'm tucking you in tonight, Cajun." She was standing in the doorway, back straight for all she looked relaxed, and a little smile playing about her red lips.

"_Que?_" Remy first had to process the fact that a dislocated shoulder was 'nothing', and the bomb that was the idea of her 'tucking him in was truly a disturbing thought.

"Ah, how about I make sure he gets down there pet, and you can go an' make sure Rogue knows we're leavin'?" John suggested, but she shook her head.

"I've already put Rogue to bed, I promised I'd help him sleep tonight," she held up a hand that glowed a faint, inviting blue, and held it out to Remy.

"Come on, I'm not going to throw you out of the window," she laughed, and the nervous Cajun approached her and held out his hand, which she took and held firmly, murmuring a few foreign words, and he felt himself grow very light, and weary.

"Coming, John?" she asked quietly, and behind Remy the Aussie crossed the room and took the Witch by the hand that was not glowing.

"Course love. Let's be off."

~**************************************************************~

Wanda wasn't in the room as Remy changed and got into bed, John fetching her when the Cajun was safely under the covers, and she stood by the bedside and smiled down at him kindly.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she teased, and he sighed and smiled wearily.

"Y' put _ma chere_ t' bed den?" he asked, and she nodded and bent to place two fingertips to his forehead.

"She's resting. You've taken quite a lot out of her with all this – you never should have left, you know," she said lightly, as her fingers projected a soft white light that flowed over his skin and settled into it as if it were air.

"_Je sais... je regrette..._" he mumbled, eyes closing, and she murmured something he could neither understand nor hear properly and then said,

"_Dormons bien, tu ignorant... elle attend..._"

He was out before he even had the chance to ponder who she meant.

_**~**************************************************************~**_


	7. Part 7

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or places portrayed here and if you thought I did then I'm surprised you're here at all.**_

_**Hello y'all. Yesh, I'm here again. I have been neglecting you lot, and this part was edited before I thought it would be, so here you go and I hope you all appreciate it and see fit to show that appreciation. Those who do, will as always be replied to and held in great esteem. Midnight Larkin, TitansRule, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, LadyMageLuna, Dholefire, Khwhitelion, aiRo25, thank you all so very, very much. You people inspire me and your reviews made me want to give you more of this sooner and spurred me on to update this even though I could have waited. To all those of you who I know have me on alert and who were once reviewers of mine as well – we miss you and I hope that every one of you is still alive and well and doing great! To those of you who have me on various alerts but are not reviewers, you will remain anonymous although I could publish a list of all your names if I so chose. I hope you continue to enjoy my work though, and that some of you may feel the urge to review it at some point.**_

_**To all of you who review, thank you for telling me the things you tell me. You are literally writing the chapters through me and editing them because the things you tell me you liked I act on and incorporate more of later. Stay safe and well, all of you. Namarie, until next time.**_

_**_____________________________________________________________________**_

_**Who Knew?**_

_Part 7_

This time around he was woken by the unmistakable sounds of someone screaming versus someone who was – roaring? Sitting bolt upright he threw back the covers, pulled on his jeans and sprinted out of the med bay towards the sound of the noise. Skidding around a corner, he ran slap bang into the Beast, who caught his arm with one formidable hand and pulled him well back from the scene currently playing out in the living room.

Laura was standing in what Remy recognised as a typically teenage position, the 'How Dare You' feet-apart, head-bowed, eyes-glaring, arms-outstretched stance that was only different to every other teenage girl's screaming-match position by the adamantium claws protruding from the knuckles of her clenched fists.

Wolverine was facing her, squaring off in the well-known 'Outraged Father' position, his own claws out as he pointed the Finger Of Accusation at her and glared at her with the Eyes Of Paternal Disappointment.

Next to Laura, a – young man? – was standing, arms crossed across his _very_ toned, bare chest as he surveyed the clash of wills going on before him with an insolent half-smile on his lips that displayed the fact that he'd been blessed with prominent fangs – much like those found in large beasts of prey. Remy's thoughts drifted to Sabretooth. It couldn't possibly be a _Sabretooth_ clone, could it? The unusually long, blond hair spilling down the guy's back, and the claws – for he did indeed have claws – as well as the fangs were definitely reminiscent of the older mutant, but the faces differed. This guy didn't look quite as feral as Sabretooth, although that could be attributed to the fact that he was clearly younger and had the appearance of someone who didn't sleep rough every night and showered like a normal person. Remy studied him with interest. His proximity to Laura suggested they were on friendly terms, and his lack of clothing other than the tight leather trousers he was sporting implied he'd been up to something Remy definitely remembered was not condoned within the mansion's walls. Satisfied with his deductions, he tuned in to the yelling.

"- filthy hypocrite!" Laura screamed, and Logan narrowed his eyes at her.

"You watch your tone young lady! I won't take that from you when you know damn well I'm doing this for your own good!" he roared back, for he was indeed roaring, and the strange-looking mutant youth grinned at the statement, flexing his claws. Logan's attention snapped to him immediately.

"You better wipe that goddamn grin off your face, bub, or I'll have ta take you out. Side." The last word was more an afterthought, the statement clearly meant originally as a threat on the guy's life, and Remy had to admire his stones for continuing to smile at the enraged Canadian.

"Can't help the way my face looks," he said in a tone that was more a sneer than anything, and Laura looked up at him with disapproval written all over her. Remy noted that his voice was a deep, gravelly growl that wasn't put on.

"Not – _helping!_" she hissed, and he shrugged and took a step back in clear deference to her desire to solve things through yelling at her 'father' instead of engaging in what would surely end up in some kind of homicide.

"Well maybe you'd like ta have it rearranged then," Logan spat, and Laura raised her arms as if to block an attack.

"You do that and I am moving!" she threatened, and Logan groaned, implying that this one had been heard before.

"Move where, huh kid? Move where?" he asked, as if daring her to come up with something that hadn't been discussed to death.

"I'll move in with Wanda! Or Jean! I don't care, but I'm not staying here if you're going to assault my friends!"

"_Friends_, Laur'?" asked the blonde in an undertone, and she ignored him purposely.

"We both know that ain' gonna happen, girly. Why won't you just accept that this isn't on?" Logan asked in a weary sort of voice, and Laura stamped her foot.

"You don't get to decide that! Rogue gets to hang out with whoever she wants, Kitty gets to do whatever she wants, why can't I? I'm not a little girl!"

"You are my little girl until you're mature enough to understand why I can't accept this behaviour – you just ask Stripes and Half-Pint whether or not I let them run around all hours of the day and night with teenage boys when they were your age! You ask Rocky how many times I didn't threaten to serve him for dinner if he came within five miles of this Institute! Hell, the only reason that Cajun's still around is because your sister asked me not ta end him once upon a time or his Aunt would have gotten him back in a doggy bag! I'm not taking this crap from you," Logan said firmly, and Remy winced a little at the reference to himself.

"So they get to plead their case but I can't plead mine? That's not fair! You're okay with everyone else doing whoever they want – "

"Hold it right there!"

"- but not me! I can't even go out to see him!" The calm voice of Rogue cut through the tension in the room – half the Institute was watching this go down by now – and she stepped forward, arms crossed under her breasts and hips cocked attractively.

"Laura. Go upstairs." Her 'sister' opened her mouth to protest, but a look from the Southern Belle quelled her rebellion and she grabbed the blonde mutant, sheathing her claws at an angle that sliced a deep gash in his arm that he didn't even seem to register, and dragging him with her, storming out.

"Will y'all give me an' mah fam'ly a minute here, please?" Rogue said loudly, and the crowd slowly dispersed, Beast chivvying Remy out along with everyone else. He was loath to leave Rogue and her irate 'father' alone like that, but the raised eyebrows of the furry doctor changed his mind and he allowed himself to be led to the kitchen where Dr. Hank McCoy, resident furry blue monster, poured him a cup of coffee and sat down across from him with a heavy sigh.

"What de hell?" Remy asked bluntly, and Dr. McCoy sipped his coffee and smiled.

"I think that for all he loves those girls like they were his own, sometimes his 'family' brings that man more pain than anything else," he mused, and Remy opened his mouth to ask again, but was cut off.

"_That_ was Laura's love interest, the illustrious Kyle Gibney," he continued, adding,

"And the bane of Logan's existence. Ironic really that he bears such a resemblance to Sabretooth but as far as we know they're no relation to one another."

"Laura's wit' dat guy? No wonder de Wolverine's out f' blood," Remy said sympathetically, and the blue scientist grinned.

"Never thought I'd hear _you_ say something like that, Mr. LeBeau. But yes, Logan is... upset, that his daughter has chosen such an alliance. He feels that Mr. Gibney is unworthy of her affections."

"Is he?" The Beast mulled this over for a moment before shrugging.

"We can't really know for sure. He turned up a year ago and interrupted a mission, seemingly with the only intention of making Laura's acquaintance. He claimed to have been tracking her for days – which naturally put Logan right on to some old memories of a similar situation regarding one of his _other_ daughters..." he looked pointedly at Remy who had the grace to look away and blush.

"I wasn' gonna hurt Rogue – y'all know dat now," he said firmly, and Beast shook his head with a smile, signalling that there was no lingering malcontent towards Remy for the old misunderstanding.

"Yes, yes. The point is, it put Logan's guard up. Popular opinion has it that Laura was flattered, and she apparently involved herself in an affair with this young man quite soon after that. He admits to having no ties to the organised mutant world whatsoever and is as far as we have ascertained a drifter. He had numerous run-ins with Logan regarding his tendency to circumvent mansion security and disregard the Institute's rules in general when he visited. Incidents like this one have not been uncommon. As of late we haven't seen him and we have noted that in his absence Laura becomes sullen and less talkative, but he has left before for a number of weeks so we all assumed that he would return eventually. Most of us had given up hope but it would seem that he and Laura enjoyed a tryst last night upon his return to the area, and that is what this kerfuffle is all about," he finished, smiling, and Remy whistled.

"Damn. De boy tinks he can jus' up an' leave one o' Wolvie's girls whenever he wan's t'? He's _askin'_ f' trouble, dat one," he said with a laugh, and the blue mutant nodded agreement.

"I believe it would not be foolish to assume so. It is only a matter of time before Logan tires of this arrangement. He has had words with her before but she refuses to comment on her relationship with the boy and Wolverine naturally assumes the worst. You know – he likens him to you at times."

"_Moi?_ I never did notin' like dat!" Remy protested, but the blue giant looked at him over his glasses and he settled down.

"You do know that our Rogue was awfully downtrodden upon her return from your little trip? Logan has always held you personally responsible. He feels that you took advantage of her and that you may have... how to put this... gotten her hopes up for naught?" Remy looked at his coffee and mumbled into it.

"Mmm... _peut-être_..."

"Well, whatever transpired between the two of you, Logan wants what is best for his girls, just as any father would, and unfortunately this Mr. Gibney shows absolutely no sign of wanting to end this upsetting tradition of his," Hank continued in a friendly tone, and Remy shrugged.

"Boy's gotta run de devil outta himself 'fore he'll be good enough t' stick aroun', _mon ami_ – trus' me on dis one," he offered, and Hank smiled wryly.

"Well I suppose you would know. How's your own exorcism coming?" Remy chuckled into his coffee.

"_Je suis toujours le Diable Blanc, mais je suis nes un diablotin pas toutefois_," he declared with a self-deprecating gesture towards his eyes, and Hank laughed.

"_Je suis un monstre bleu, et Kurt est une diable véritable! Tu es aucun en comparaison de nous!_" Remy smiled, eyes glowing.

"_C'est vrai, mon ami bleu, c'est trop vrai_," he agreed.

_**~**************************************************************~**_

"Logan... Ya know you're as good as mah Daddy anyday – hell ya even had them papers drawn up so's we could make it official, an' Ah always wan'ed that, more 'n anythin' else in this world..." she said softly, and he nodded, holding her gloved hands in his as she knelt in front of where he was sat on the couch, looking so utterly defeated.

"You've always taken real good care o' meh – an Kitty, an' Laura too, even though she was so angry in the beginning... Ah don' think she ever would 'a gotten this far without you," Rogue said with a little smile, and he sighed.

"Sometimes I think she still wants t' kill me – she's just doin' it smarter now than when she was usin' those claws back in the day," he said wearily, and she nodded.

"She was so young, Logan, an' what they did to her was so _bad_... You know what Charles always said to us, the damage they did is irreparable – she won' ever be normal lahke the rest of us. She's always gonna have trouble bein' around people an' Ah wish that wasn' true, but it is an' all we can do is try an' encourage her when she does form a relationship with someone – however unhealthy we might think it is." She said the last part quickly as he raised his head to argue, and he closed his mouth and looked back down at their joined hands.

"I know you're right, Stripes... But she's my little girl... I can't watch her waste herself like that, it's not right to me," he said sadly.

"We don' know that she won't live as long as I have, we don' know if she'll age or if she'll die normally like the rest of you. She's got her whole life ahead of her and she's got so much left to do, a childhood to catch up on... I just want that for her..." Rogue nodded, blinking back tears, her smile weak.

"I just want to make sure that the people around her are treating her right, Rogue... You've all suffered enough, now it's my job to make sure that never happens again," he said seriously, and she squeezed his hands, feeling the unyielding metal beneath his skin. It comforted her like it always did.

"Ah know that. We all love ya, Logan... Ah sure 's hell do..." the tears finally fell and he looked at her in consternation, folding her into a hug as he lifted her onto his lap, as if she were nothing but a child.

"Hey now, honey, don't cry, okay? She'll get over this an' it'll all go back ta normal again, I promise you that. I ain' gonna let no one hurt any of you," he said softly, and she nodded into his shoulder and just let herself cry, feeling at once weak for not being able to stave off the fear that her fragile 'family' might someday fall apart, and safer than she had ever felt before in the knowledge that as long as she had them, nothing could ever harm her again.

_**~**************************************************************~**_

"Laura? Honey can Ah come in?" The muffled reply seemed to be in the affirmative, and Rogue opened the door and peered into the gloom of her adoptive sister's inner sanctum. She saw her sitting on the bed, petite figure swamped in one of Rogue's old concert hoodies, and hair dishevelled.

"Sweetie, Ah need t' talk to you," she said, approaching her, and Laura shrugged.

"I don't need to talk," she said softly, and Rogue put her hand on Laura's shoulder and made the younger girl look up at her.

"Ah don' give a rat's ass. Yah're gonna listen." Laura just resumed staring at the floor, and Rogue sat down next to her, putting her arm around the girl's thin but muscular shoulders.

"Where'd ya send him?" she asked, and Laura pointed out of the window.

"Ah see. He comin' back?" Laura shrugged again, and Rogue sighed.

"Ya know Ah'm gettin' jus' a little tahred of his disappearin' acts. Where the hell does he run off to anyhow?" Laura didn't answer.

"Laura. Talk t' meh. Ah'm serious here, ya don' talk ta meh an' Ah can' help you." Quite suddenly, Laura twisted herself around and buried her face in Rogue's shoulder, arms encircling her waist as she howled with tears, and Rogue just stroked her hair and let her cry. When Laura cried, it was because she really needed to, and any rejection of her would only lead to memories of her conditioning being dredged up again. She had once told Rogue how they had beat her when she wept, and left her to figure out that they stopped when she stopped crying. If Rogue had anything to do with it the only people getting a beating in connection with Laura feeling a need to cry were whoever caused her misery in the first place.

"It's okay baby, Ah've got you... Tell me what's wrong Sugar, Ah'm raght here," she soothed, and Laura whined like a kicked puppy.

"I don't know what I'm feeling! I don't know what I want! Why won't he just let me do this? It makes me feel better!" she cried, and Rogue rocked her gently and spoke to her in a low, calming tone.

"Ah know it does, Sugar, Ah know it does... Do you remember when you first came ta live with me? Ya were always scratchin' up your arms when you got sad... Why'd you do that?"

"Because it made me feel better," she sobbed, and Rogue nodded and carried on stroking her hair.

"Exactly, An' what did Ah tell you then?" Laura looked up at her sister with abject misery spilling from her wide, hazel eyes.

"You said that if I have to be in pain to feel better then there's something wrong and that when something is wrong I should talk to you and Dad about it," she said with a hiccup, and Rogue nodded again, wiping Laura's tears away with the satin-clad thumb of her right hand.

"That's raght. Now Ah want you t' be completely honest with me, Laura. Are you happy about this situation?" She shook her head slowly, avoiding Rogue's gaze.

"What makes you unhappy about it?" Laura sniffed back more tears and mumbled,

"I don't like it when he leaves me." Rogue stroked back the younger girl's bangs and smiled sadly.

"Ah know how that feels, baby. Ya gotta trust me on this one. Ah know just how you feel. Have ya told him that ya don' lahke him runnin' off whenever the fancy takes him?" Laura shook her head again.

"I'm not sure he would understand," she tried to explain, and Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"Understand? What's ta understand? If you tell someone ya don' wan' them leavin' ya all the tahme, that's the end of it! Laura, you've got ta listen to me now because what I need you ta hear is very, very important. Ya know how much Kitty loves Lance?" Laura nodded.

"An' ya know how much Wanda loves John?" Laura nodded again, a little smile curving her lips.

"Have you _ever_ seen Lance or John leave Kit an Wanda if they told them they wanted them ta stay?" Laura thought about it and then shook her head once for no.

"An' do Kit an' Wanda _need_ to tell Lance an' John _why_ they don' wan' them leavin' for them ta stay?" Laura shook her head once again for no.

"Why do you think that is, now, baby?" Laura appeared to struggle with the issue for a moment before her eyes cleared and she said,

"Because they care for them."

"Yes they do. In fact, they love them raght back, don' they? You think Lance would ever ask Kitty why she didn't want him to go?"

"I've never heard it," Laura said slowly, and Rogue smiled.

"That's because it never happens. You ever heard John tell Wanda she could 'shove it' when she tells him she wants him ta stay home with her instead of goin' out or somethin'?" Laura's eyes went wide and she shook her head vigorously.

"You think he ever would?"

"No!" Rogue smiled again at the shock in the girl's voice, and wiped a stray tear from Laura's cheek.

"Exactly. Because he loves her. He doesn' need an explanation, or a reason – if she asks him for somethin', he'll do it because he loves her – unless it's illegal or would hurt someone else. If you love someone you don't ask them to do things that maght get them in trouble." Laura's brow furrowed.

"But John's done lots of – " Rogue interrupted quickly,

"Okay, Lance then, we'll use _him_ as an example! Do you think he questions Kitty when she asks him to do things for her? No. Because he _loves_ her and he wants her ta be happy all the tahme. We only want ta be aroun' people who care for us, isn' that raght? An' if they care for us, they'll understand automatically when we want them to stay with us, okay?" Laura nodded slowly, the concept sinking in, and then she paused and asked,

"Does that mean that Wanda doesn't love John as much as Kitty loves Lance?" Rogue laughed and gave her a hug, kissing her hair.

"Oh, child sometahmes Ah wish Ah could jus' – nevermahnd, nevermahnd. But no, sweetheart, that isn't what that means. John and Wanda are very, _very_ in love, and John would do anything for her. Literally. And they're both very, _very_ special people, aren't they? You know that. That means that even though sometahmes the things they do for each other aren't very nahce, or sometahmes even illegal, that doesn't mean they don't love each other, it just means that their love is a different kind of love because they're different kinds of people, okay? Can you understand that?"

"I think so... So Kitty and Lance are in love too, but Lance wouldn't kill for Kitty because Kitty wouldn't like that?" Rogue beamed at her.

"Somethin' lahke that, sweetie. Lance knows that if Kitty asked for somethin' lahke that she'd regret it later. That's the only tahme he'd refuse her somethin'. To protect her."

"Like Dad is doing for me..?" Laura asked tentatively, and Rogue nodded solemnly.

"Lahke we're all doin' for you. We all love you very much, Laura Howlett – especially your Daddy. You are very special to us and we would do anythang for you, but if you want somethin' that maght end up hurtin' you, we have to make sure that doesn't happen. Get it?"

Laura fidgeted with her fingers and looked out of the window again at the clear, white sky.

"Do you think... do you think he loves me?" she asked quietly, and Rogue hugged her closer.

"Ah don' know baby. Do you?"

_**~**************************************************************~**_

As he took another breath of the cold morning air, Remy leant back on the railings of the gazebo and considered things. Had he really been as much of a bastard to Rogue back then as this Kyle person was being to Laura now? He didn't really know how to compare the two situations – for starters, he'd never slept with Rogue – however much the idea might have appealed to him - but he was pretty damn sure that Kyle had hit that and hit it good when it came to Laura. He'd used Rogue emotionally, and he was deeply ashamed of that, but surely that was nothing compared to the way Kyle had repeatedly taken advantage of Laura's accommodating ways and then buggered off, as John would say, so as to avoid taking the rap for it. Hell, if Remy had become romantically involved with Rogue he'd have gladly let Wolverine string him up by his genitals to prove that he was worthy of her, and he certainly wouldn't have been buggering off _anywhere!_

The epiphany of that knowledge hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt the urge to mull over this new certainty with a cigarette, and pulled one from an inside pocket, lighting it with a minute charge before dragging deep and exhaling in a wondrous exclamation of,

"I love de _fille_..." His rapture was interrupted by a low, amused growl from behind him, that remarked,

"Good for you. Got another one o' those?"

Spinning around and charging three cards out of sheer routine ready to blast the intruder upon his dreams of marriage and Southern nights on a white-painted porch with his _chere_, he was faced with the very blonde nuisance that had disrupted his entire morning so far. He disliked him on principle now that the issue was thrust upon him suddenly. After all, Rogue couldn't possibly approve of his treatment of her sister, and as such Remy felt honour-bound to show a certain animosity towards this enemy of Remy's future family.

"Y' migh' wanna get y'self somewhere dat ain' nowhere near here pretty quick, _chat_, looks like y' ain' so popular roun' dese here parts," he said quietly, and the blonde just rolled back his shoulders and looked at the glowing cards between Remy's fingers with interest.

"Ooh, pretty," he said sarcastically.

"Mind telling me why you don't just hand over the fag an' stop making such a fuss about it? _Gambit?_" Remy flicked his cards back to their original hiding place, uncharged, and narrowed his eyes at the fanged mutant, whose own eyes were blazing with something akin to the joy of small children when faced with a new playmate.

"Dat ain' Remy's name," he growled, and Kyle shrugged.

"So I hear. Laura tells me you're her sister's patient. Apparently she doesn't hate you." He was wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination and a long black leather trench coat over that. There were heavy boots on his feet and he'd swept back the blonde hair, presumably to be rid of the annoyance of it blowing into his face. Remy noticed glinting silver piercings in his slightly pointed ears.

"_C'est vrai_. Tol' me yesterday. Threatened me, too," he said with ill-disguised hostility, and Kyle grinned. Remy thought for a moment of the way Sabretooth would grin when he returned from a violent, successful mission for Magneto.

"Don't take it personally," Kyle advised, and then nodded to Remy's cigarette, which the Cajun had forgotten about for the time being.

"Repeating my original question; do you have another one of those?" he asked politely, and Remy threw him one with a dismissive gesture.

"Thank you," Kyle said, lighting up and inhaling deeply. Remy turned his attention back to his own, hoping vainly that if he ignored the strangely pleasant mutant, he would catch on and fuck off of his own accord. It seemed that this was not to be the case, but thankfully, before Remy felt obliged to take decisive action, they were joined by Kurt, who appeared in a cloud of sulphuric smoke and glared daggers at the feral interloper.

"My sister vants you out," he said tightly, and Kyle smiled, displaying his fangs, and said,

"Anything for her," before extinguishing his fag by grinding it into his hand, and spreading his arms wide.

"Kick me out, then," he said with a laugh, and Kurt rolled his eyes and grabbed onto the other mutant by his hair, teleporting them both to some other place. Two minutes passed before the German returned, an angry look on his face, and he faced Remy.

"Zat one – ve don't like him. Ve don't talk to him, ve don't let him in, and vhen he does get in, ve kick him out. Got zat?" Remy nodded.

"_Je suis desolé, mon ami_ – Remy figured if he blew up de garden his Rogue migh' not be so happy wit' him," he apologised, and Kurt nodded, features relaxing as he sighed.

"I know. It's okay. Just... he isn't good for my sister. I do not like him being around her. I am sorry for speaking to you like zat," he said, accent less pronounced now that he seemed to have calmed down, and Remy smiled.

"_Je comprende_. De Beas' tol' Remy what dat _homme_'s been up t'. Tink' y' righ' about him, he ain' good f' y' Laura," he said sympathetically, and Kurt laughed.

"_Mein freund_, don' take zis the wrong way, but zere was a time when Dr. McCoy said the same things about you an' Rogue!" Remy shrugged.

"_C'est la vie_, non? Anyway, y' don' have t' worry bout' dis Cajun upsettin' y' Rogue. Dere ain' notin' in de worl' I wan' less den t' see her sad, _mon ami_," he assured him, and Kurt winked.

"I know _zat_, silly! You would have to be _really_ stupid not to see that you're in love with _mein schwester!_" Remy stared at him, open-mouthed, and Kurt stopped laughing and looked at him searchingly.

"Uh-oh..." he said, and then grinned.

"Didn't you get ze memo?"

_**~**************************************************************~**_


	8. Part 8

_**DISCLAIMER: No, none of this is mine, but I don't really care because in my opinion the original creators royally screwed stuff up and this is my attempt to make things right.**_

_**Yes, this is an update. AiRo25, Twylyte,martshi3, Chellerbelle, LadyMageLuna, ColorCoated, V. Arsonist, Ashy!!!!, Larky!!!!, Fostersb and TitansRule, y'all are peaches and I am eternally grateful to all of you for choosing to take the time to review and let me know what you think of my writing efforts so far. To those of you whom I have not heard from before, I truly hope you'll stay on board and continue to enjoy things, to those who have been with me all along I actually hope the same with hugs on top, and to those of you who continue to lurk, it's your choice in the end, but really – don't you want to tell me if you're just reading this because you think it sucks so hard it's the next best thing to a comedy special on the box? Anyhow, we continue our scheduled program – enjoy!**_

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_**Who Knew? **_

_**Part 8.**_

Absconding from the med bay turned out to be more of a challenge than he had originally thought. However ill he might still be, he had at least reckoned on it being easy enough to avoid students and the like in the corridors with some of the old patented thief magic, but they seemed to be absolutely _everywhere_. After half an hour of sneaking, he finally made it into the kitchen without incident, turned around after shutting the door quietly behind him, and was discovered by the hooded and gloved mutant sat at the table.

"Morning," he said amiably, and Remy had to take a moment to compose himself. Was there no _end_ to the masses of mutants in this damn place? Couldn't a guy even sneak into the bloody _kitchen_ and have five minutes to himself? Jesus!

"_Bonjour_," he said, a little stiffly, his pride as master thief a little injured, and the – _grey?_ – mutant laughed a little.

"_Jubecita_ tells me you're big on stealth – there ain' no such thing in this place," he said sympathetically, and Remy found himself warming to this baggy-skinned, grey-toned fellow immediately.

"Remy can live wit' dat," Remy said with a grin at his companion, adding,

"If dere's coffee in dis place."

* * *

"So, y' an' de _petite_ are t'gether?" he asked, sipping his coffee, and the grey-skinned mutant whom he now knew to be Jubilee's Angelo - or _Angie_, as Rogue referred to him - looked down, embarrassed.

"I don' even know how that one happened – I mean, she came with Storm and Nightcrawler to get me and then before I knew it she announced that we were dating, and..." Remy smiled.

"Wolverine blow a fuse?" he asked slyly, and Angelo lit up in a grin that made him really rather attractive in an odd, grey sort of way.

"I think he had to accept it when I asked what the _hell_ was going on and Jubes basically told me what was goin' down an' that I had no choice," he said with a look on his face that spoke of fond remembrance, and Remy laughed out loud.

"Y' know, _homme_ – Remy can totally see dat!"

"Think she knew I didn't have the balls t' make it happen if she didn' give me that kick t' get there," Angelo said honestly, and Remy nodded, thoughtful.

"De _petites, mon ami,_ dey know dese tings... We ain' got half de sense dose _filles_ are born wit'," he said seriously, and Angelo grinned again.

"Hell if that ain' true, _hombre_," he laughed.

"Remy LeBeau. Where is my sister?" Laura suddenly demanded from the doorway where she had been skulking for a few minutes, listening in on this conversation about the inner workings of the dafter sex.

"Laura! _Ça va?_" he asked, and she gave him a tentative smile and said,

"_Ça va bien_, _Remy_, c_omment ça va?_" in an easy accent.

"_Je vais bien, petite,_" he answered, smiling kindly to put her at ease, and she seemed to respond well to it, eyes sparkling a little.

"I am glad that you are well this morning. Have you seen my sister?"

"Rogue? I don' know where _ma chere_ is, _petite_, I jus' got up an hour ago," he explained, spreading his hands, and she wrinkled her nose.

"She did not go out this morning, Kitty said that she did not see her when she got up for breakfast," Laura said, with apparent lack of approval in her tone that her sister was AWOL.

"Maybe _ma chere_ is asleep? I tink she wen' t' bed early las' nigh', after I did. She said she was tired," he suggested, and Laura beamed at him, uttered a quick,

"_Merci, Remy!_" and ran from the room. Angelo shook his head and drank the rest of his coffee, getting up to put away the mug, and Remy did the same.

"That little _chica_'s got some serious problems," Angelo said, again sympathetic without being pitying, and Remy nodded agreement.

"_Je sais, mon ami_. But she's a good girl an' she's got all o' y' t' take care of her. She'll be okay," he said encouragingly, and Angelo smiled.

"That's one thing I know – when y' come here, even if you got nothin', no family, nobody – the second you walk through those gates, you've got one, an' you don' even have to apply for it," he said, eyes serious although his mouth still curved upwards.

"I know dat too, _homme_," Remy said quietly.

_

* * *

_

It hadn't been his plan originally to wander around the mansion aimlessly, but somehow that was exactly what he ended up doing. Since his revelation, he had thought of nothing but Rogue – although he had tried not to let on - and now that he was unexpectedly free from her company, he wanted to see if his new-found energy was something he was up to handling.

After parting ways with Angelo, who apparently had something to do, he busied himself with mapping out the mansion's ground floor in his head in a thief's favourite pastime, and was interrupted in his admiring of some fine paintings in the hall when there was a tugging on his hand and he looked down at the little girl with the gardening gloves, who was smiling up at him with large, mild brown eyes.

"_Bonjour, petite,_" he said kindly, and she flushed a little, releasing his hand and making a waving motion with her own gloved appendage. He wondered if she was deaf or mute or both, and if she could hear or understand him at all, but she seemed to have grasped the greeting, and her hand made a 'come with me' gesture.

"Follow y'?" he asked to clarify, and the little girl nodded, smiling at his understanding. Remy had to smile back. She was such a pretty little thing, and she so reminded him of his Rogue with those gloves and the obvious fact that she clearly had a violent mutation or at the least a disability that prevented normal communication.

"Okay, Remy trusts y'..." he said, and she clapped her hands and then grabbed hold of his again and began to lead him away outside through the door. He could feel her fingers, and realised that the gloves weren't just large and heavy looking; her hands filled them out perfectly. Her hands were simply overlarge for her overall size. Again, he felt a strange bond with this girl. Like him and his eyes, she would never truly be able to hide her mutation. She was leading him across the lawn to the right of the mansion where there were several secluded, tree-enclosed areas that he knew of, and he looked down at her questioningly.

"In dere, _petite?_" She nodded, smile enthusiastic, and tugged harder at his hand, leading him through a small copse to a wide, open area of snow-covered lawn, where Laura stood in what he assumed were her training leathers, smiling and with arms crossed.

"Tor'! Over here!" she called, and the little girl released Remy's hand and ran to Laura, who picked her up as easily as if she had been a doll and swung her around, despite not being that much taller herself. Remy approached them as Laura sat the brunette down and looked up at him.

"Rogue has taken a day to herself, so Charles and Hank suggested I help you test your new abilities out here where there can be no accidents," she explained, and Remy looked around them, eyes acknowledging the sense of it.

"_D'accord_. No more accidents f' _moi_," he said firmly, and she smiled down at the smaller girl who was still looking at them observantly, and said,

"I asked Torpid to collect you from the mansion – she does not go to school. She and I are at home together most days." The little girl – Torpid – beamed at Remy and made some complicated hand signs to Laura, who laughed.

"She says that she likes your eyes, Remy LeBeau," she informed him, and Remy grinned widely.

"_Merci, petite belle_," he said charmingly, and the little brunette looked down at her snow-covered boots, blushing furiously, and then up at Laura, who nodded.

"She can stay, can't she?" Laura asked, and Remy shrugged, uncomfortable.

"She heal like y' do?"

"No. She has other powers. But she wants to stay. She will be bored if she goes back inside." Remy sighed. Truthfully, while he was itching to try his new powers and get some exercise at the same time after so long an illness, he really did not want innocents without accelerated healing capabilities to be present while he did so. If another incident like Kurt occurred, he didn't know if his welcome at the Institute would last much longer.

"Remy isn' sure 'bout dis... If Rogue finds out I let 'er stay an' she got hurt..." he trailed off, and Torpid made some more signs at Laura, who nodded thoughtfully.

"She promises to stand well back, Remy. I will not allow her to come to any harm. She is my responsibility today, not yours. Don't worry," Laura assured him, and he gave up. It was no use arguing with womenfolk, and miniature womenfolk who were subject to the influences of the likes of Wanda and his _chere_... well. Nothing with anything less than bona fide girl balls stood a chance. Added to that, the little girl was looking at him so intently that he felt almost as if he'd be insulting her by asking her to leave. Or rather, asking Laura to make her leave. Easiest to give in.

"Alrigh'. But I haven' tried out dese new powers yet – I don' know what'll happen," he cautioned her, and she just nodded calmly.

"That is why I am here, Remy."

_

* * *

_

Torpid's eyes were round as she watched Remy and Laura 'experiment'. The little girl watched with awe as the two fighters tested each others' mettle, and she clapped and jumped when they performed a particularly clever stunt or when one got the edge over the other. Remy had lost none of his agility, he even thought he felt a slight rise in his usual levels of flexibility. Of course, Laura was more than a fair match for him, and she certainly put him through his paces - he even reckoned she was holding back so as not to completely emasculate him. He had to admit, he loved it. After so long on bedrest and walking around holding Rogue's hand like a child, it felt unbelievably good to be the man he had been before this highly inconvenient power surge. He felt every bit as powerful as he had been before, the energy under his skin finally let out in a way other than into his _chere_, and while he had no problem with being essentially chained to her hand for the rest of his life in principal, practically it was so much more rewarding to let it loose destructively, just as he had used to do when he had had his first surge as a child.

"Well done," Laura said appraisingly, as she moved towards him, sheathing her claws and smiling. He reached out and clasped her hand, his own smile fading as he saw her hand glow pink where they were touching.

"_Merde!_" he spat, fighting to control the impulses, and she looked him squarely in the eye.

"Remy. Listen to me," she tried, but he shook his head violently, fingers tightening around hers as he panicked.

"If I let go, y' blow up, I can' do dat, I can' take it back – " he said with a terrified look at Laura whose deep hazel eyes softened as she placed her other hand on top of his and called softly,

"Torpid..." Remy thanked the Gods that the older girl was sending away the child – she shouldn't have to see this, there was no way he could hold back his powers at this point, he didn't have that level of control back yet, he should never have touched her –

The little girl advanced on him, huge eyes suddenly full of tears, and she removed her right glove to reveal what Remy had rightly suspected was a freakishly large hand. She looked up at him with a sad, sweet smile, as if trying to reassure him, and he balked. Twisting to try and get away from her, he shouted at the clawed mutant who was holding his hand on hers with an iron grip that he just could not break.

"_Non_, Laura, please – y' can' let 'er – " The little girl reached out and touched him, and he went blank. Not the old, pulling sensation he knew so well from Rogue, but just instant, utter blankness.

_

* * *

_

Laura carefully extracted her now-glowless hands from Remy's, shifting a finger out of joint to release the right one, and looked down at Torpid, who was shaking her head to clear her eyes of tears and trying to put her glove back on.

"It's alright, Tor'," she said quietly, pushing her finger back into place with an unpleasant cracking noise, and the younger girl looked up at her and signed,

'_I didn't like that, I was afraid. I don't know when he'll wake up again'._

"It's going to be all right, Tor'," Laura reassured her, looking around her and sniffing the air. Torpid tugged on her arm, clearly distressed.

'_You can't carry him back home. We can't leave him here!'_ she signed quickly, her inflections and body language signalling that she was definitely agitated, and Laura smiled at her, bending to smooth tears from her cheeks as Rogue sometimes did for Laura when she cried.

"I promise, it will be okay." Standing, she looked to her right, narrowed her eyes and called sharply,

"Stop hiding and come and help us!" Torpid jumped and clung to Laura's arm, trembling a little, as the older girl's unwelcome feral friend came slinking out of the cover of the trees and approached them. Surprisingly, he did not have his usual sarcastic grin on his face, and he looked at Laura with something that could almost have been concern if it hadn't been for the fangs and the unnatural colouring of his eyes. He reached out to touch her, almost hesitantly, but she drew back, her hand on Torpid's shoulder pulling the child along, and said,

"Carry him back for me." It was more a demand than a question, but after running his eyes over her with the air of someone taking inventory, he nodded once and picked up the paralysed Cajun, face impassive as he allowed Laura to lead the way back to the mansion, Torpid's arm firmly in her grip.

They were met at the doors by Hank, who took one look at the sombre party and murmured a miserable,

"Oh my stars and garters... Rogue will have all our heads..." before ushering them inside with shooing motions of his large, blue hands.

"Whatever happened, child? Is he injured?" he inquired of Laura, taking Remy from Kyle in a way that suggested he really had very little desire to actually touch the black-clad bearer of paralysed thieves. Kyle either did not notice, or chose not to make an issue of it, and Laura stroked Torpid's hair absentmindedly as she replied.

"No, he lost control and Tor' stopped him so that he would not injure me." The little girl flinched as the stonefaced feral beside Laura bared his fangs at the remark, but he schooled his features to indifference again just as quickly as the anger had shown, and she looked to Dr. McCoy for reassurance.

"That was good thinking on both your parts, well done dear," the blue-furred doctor said benevolently, and Torpid looked over at Remy.

"Torpid says she does not know when he will wake up. She was upset when she froze him," Laura explained, and Hank sighed.

"More time in the med bay then. Oh well. Which one of you is going to call Rogue and let her know she might have to come home early?" The raised eyebrow of Kyle as well as the helpless gesture of Torpid towards her mouth hit home, and Laura sighed.

"I will do it. She will be unhappy..." she said with some apprehension, and Hank looked at her over his glasses.

"God speed, my child," he said gravely, adding,

"Now, I think it would be best if I got this fellow back to his bed. Torpid, would you see Mr. Gibney out, please?" The look that the blue mutant shot the feral-and-fanged blonde was more a warning that he comply with mansion policy and give the little girl no crap than anything else, and the blonde inclined his head and turned to leave as Hank hoisted Remy up and walked off with him. Laura was not so quick to go.

"Thank you for helping us," she said stiffly, and Kyle stopped and turned to look at her.

"You're welcome," he replied, none of the insolence he usually employed present in his tone. She left, and Torpid peered curiously at the somehow lost-looking Sabretooth-a-like. She moved to try and see him better without the hindrance of his hair and he seemed to suddenly notice her presence again.

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," he said quietly, sounding most of all tired and moody – the requisite tone of voice for any teenager after pretty much anything emotionally distressing happening to them. She didn't know if he was a teenager though. She also didn't know how to respond.

'_Thank you for helping Laura,'_ she signed, not really expecting him to understand what she was getting at at all, but needing to make some sort of gesture to prevent awkwardness. To her surprise and slight discomfort, he bared his fangs at her in what must be a smile and shrugged wearily.

"She's angry with me, little girl. Helping once doesn't make everything else okay again. I thought the adults here were around to teach you children these things," he said with a sort of put-on sarcasm that she suspected he didn't really have the emotional energy left to really feel. Rogue sometimes sounded like that when she was too tired to be really angry with people like Bobby. At least he apparently understood what she had 'said'.

'_Everyone knows __**that**__. And she is only angry because you were mean,'_ she signed, with a disapproving flick of her finger, and he crossed his arms and gave her a look that reminded her of Jean when people called her on her tolerance issues.

"That's outrageous!" he huffed, and she crossed her own arms and gave him a look of her own. Sometimes she had to look at Jamie like that when he was trying to get her to take off her gloves. The actually rather big, scary blonde pouted like a child her own age and tossed his hair – also rather like Jean when she was forced to concede to her shortcomings.

"Fine! I was being mean. Bloody hell! No wonder Laura likes you," he said with an exaggerated eye roll, and Torpid had to giggle at the fact that however imposing and frankly creepy this guy was, he was every bit as self-defending as most of the teens living at the Institute, and more than twice as childish. He suddenly relaxed his I'ma-stamp-my-foot pose and gave her a sad sort of look.

"You know, some of us don't just _know_, little girl... And some of us can't be told, either," he said quietly, and she pointed at him with her index finger in an accusatory manner before signing,

_'I'm telling you. You have to be nice or she will be angry. Jamie says you like her. If you like her then why are you mean to her?'_ She looked at him with eyebrows raised, awaiting the customary persecuted teen response and she was hardly disappointed.

"Well aren't you the little Madam! For your information nothing that happens between me and Laura is any of your concern, and quite frankly, that Jamie of yours is talking out of his – "

"Oi!" The tartly delivered tirade was halted by the thickly accented Australian tones that cut through the tension in the entrance hall and led Torpid to snap her head round to where St. John Allerdyce was coming out of the Professor's office. She beamed at him and ran to greet the pyrokinetic, thrilled when he picked her up and gave her a warm hug before settling her on his hip as though she weighed about as much as a feather.

"Hello there little sheila," he said warmly, before turning his attention to Kyle who was looking decidedly sulky.

"What's all this 'ere?" John asked pleasantly, vibrant blue eyes clashing with the cool hues of those of the other mutant.

"Absolutely nothing," Kyle said indifferently, and Torpid signed a quick,

'_We were arguing because he was being mean to Laura earlier.'_

"Was he now? Well... In all fairness, that's not our business, luvvy," he said seriously, then adding in a much less serious tone,

"You can' go around gettin' mixed up in what we all do. We're too old to know any better." He set her down and ruffled her hair a little.

"You go an' tell the Prof. what's goin' on, we're jus' gonna have a quick word," he said, and she nodded and ran off towards the door he had just exited. The pyromaniac straightened and fixed Kyle with a hard look.

"Look mate, from one ex-member of the Commonwealth to another; you watch yourself when you're round 'ere. I know damn well ya like Laura an' I ain't got a problem with that, but Laura an' 'er fam'ly come as a package deal an' you've gotta get sorted with that. She's not gonna go runnin' from all this for you," he said with the barest hint of shared experience peeking through. Kyle sized him up.

"I'm not an ex-member. And you have no idea what I like," he said gruffly, and John shrugged.

"I know you've got just as many issues an' skeletons as me an' Rems, ta mention two resident serial screw-ups. An' I know how ya feel about Laura. Now you need to sort that out, or one of these days my Wanda will be pinnin' ya to the lawn like a bug on a felt board while Wolverine carves you up like a Sunday roast an' Rogue holds back 'er little sister so she can' make a fuss – an' that's if she even cares by that time. Don' go pissin' this away, mate." Kyle looked steadily at the Aussie, a curious look in his eyes.

"You're the one Laura mentioned. She said you were unstable," he said evenly, and John grinned.

"Jus' a nicer way of sayin' I'm a headcase." Kyle nodded, apparently makin some internal decision or other, and turned to leave.

"Give it a think," John called after him, and he looked over his shoulder at the pyromaniac with the uncanny deductive ability.

"Hasn't worked so far," he replied, sarcasm warring with honesty in his voice, and John shrugged.

"Then give it time." Kyle didn't reply, but took off out of the door at a run, easily matching Sabretooth for speed and running in the same odd lope the other feral sometimes used when he needed to get somewhere quickly. Or away from something.

"Sometimes I wish you had stayed with us," the light remark of the Professor reached the Aussie, and he turned to look at the older man with a smile playing about his lips.

"Yeah, well... If Wanda's somewhere else, then I've gotta be wherever that is," he said with an apologetic grin of his own, and Charles laughed.

"I believe you're not the only one who will soon be forced to admit that there is a certain somewhere they should be, too," he said enigmatically, and John laughed quietly.

"I suppose when there's that much goin' on in ya head ya gotta get things out there before it gets too much," he mused, clearly referring to himself, and Charles nodded, a touch grimly.

"Yes, it would seem so... Perhaps, then, it is time for someone else to set things in motion..."


	9. Part 9

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of this I just play with it.**_

_**Yes, this is another update! AiRo25, Chefz, martshi3, LadyMageLuna, Chica, KHwhitelion, mah punkin' pie, Larkin my little sweetie, Fostersb and TitansRule, thank you all so much for being such lovely, supportive reviewers, and for letting me know just what I'm doing that keeps lightin' all your fires XD May they never go out!**_

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_**Who Knew?**_

_Part 9_

The look on Wanda's face when her phone rang and she checked the display to see the caller ID was more than enough for Rogue to tell that it was the Scarlet Witch's very own Prince Alarming. If that hadn't been plenty evidence, her greeting set the thing in adamantium.

"John? Talk to me," she said softly, and then smiled and rolled her eyes.

"The same thing I was this morning. Anything else on your mind?" Rogue stifled a giggle. Even if it was a bit weird, you had to laugh when you knew that Pyro really was the kind of guy who called every now and again _just_ to find out what his beloved witch was wearing.

"Oh... I understand... That's not good... Okay. I'll let her know. I'll give you time to evacuate the innocents," she said seriously, then adding after what must have been protestation on the other end,

"Just to be on the safe side. I love you." Hanging up, she turned to Rogue and put her hands on the Southern Gothic's shoulders.

"Honey, I have good news and I have... Well, no, actually, I really only have bad news..."

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* * *

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"_Where are they?!_" she yelled, kicking open the door and storming in with cold murder in her eyes and boots made for ball-busting. The entire mansion gave a little.

"Rogue, I think you should – " Amara began in what was a rather shaky version of a soothing tone, and the older girl rounded on her with one bare hand raised.

"What you _think_, an' what's actually a good ahdea is never the same thang, missy, so _Ah_ suggest ya shut y' damn hole or tell me where in the hell they're all hidin' out!"

"Dr. McCoy's in the med bay with Gambit and Laura's disappeared!" the former princess squeaked, and Rogue narrowed her eyes.

"That's all I know, I swear!" The raised hand curled into a fist as if the Southerner was about to punch the hapless girl out, but instead she pointed a finger at her and hissed,

"That better not be lies, sweetie," before whirling around to pursue her prey. A colourless Amara swooned into Bobby's waiting arms and looked up at him gratefully.

"Someone pissed off The _Rogue_," he said with a low whistle, wincing as the sounds of Rogue's door-destroying rampage continued through the bowels of the mansion.

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* * *

_

The two-inch steel side-door to the med-bay slammed open and into the wall, the reverberations making a hideous noise as it swung back to reveal a goodly-sized dent where it had made contact with the wall, and Rogue- heeding not the thought of what a replacement door would cost – put her hand on it and crashed it right back into the wall.

"_What_ did y'all do?" she spat, eyes sparking with rage, and the mild-mannered blue giant sitting next to Remy's bed applying a wire to the Cajun's bare chest via the medium of a sticky green patch jumped half a mile in the air and backed into the wall away from the angry Gothic girl, who advanced on them.

"Rogue! Calm down my dear, nothing serious has – " he didn't get to finish his sentence as Rogue uttered a high-pitched cry and flung herself across the room to lean in over Remy and put her hands on his shoulders, looking at him with complete and total grief all over her beautiful face. Eyes choked with tears caught Hank's and she asked the question without saying a word.

"He's fine, child. He's going to be just fine. This was Torpid's work – it was for his own good. He was training with Laura and he accidentally charged her hand and panicked. Everything is just fine," Hank said soothingly, her mood-swing not so much a shock to him as he had thought it might be.

"Y' – you're sure? He's gonna be okay?" she asked in a small voice, and Hank nodded gently.

"Absolutely, dear, just fi – " The CRACK! that rang through the room did shock him. Only the sight of Rogue's outstretched arm and Remy's sudden state of wakefulness persuaded Hank that yes, she really had just –

"_Mon Dieu! Merde!_ Y' slapped me!" Remy yelled, hand on his cheek, and Rogue replied by whipping her other arm out and cracking him good and proper across the other cheek, face whiter than snow and lips pressed together in complete rage.

"Rogue! What de hell – "

"What in the _hell_ were y'all thinkin'? All of you! Ya wen' out alone – "

"**Alone?** Dat's what y' call bein' surrounded by a t'ousand teenagers?" he shouted back, incredulous, but she overrode him.

" – with mah sister an' she was enough of a damn fool ta take you outside an' let ya blow shit up f' no reason – "

"Hang on a minute dere, _femme!_ Yo' sister was _une_ _ange_ f' settin' dat up f' _moi_, I haven' been up an' about f' real f' **mont's!**"

" – an' _then_ ya somehow manage ta get all worked up an' lose control an' Ah wasn' aroun' ta handle it so Torpid had ta take you down? Why wasn' anybody watchin' you? At what point did the three of you decide that'd be a good ahdea?!"

"Hey now, I didn' even know about dat when I lef' de med bay – I jus' wan'ed t' get de hell outta here f' a while," Remy defended himself, and Rogue shrieked in anger.

"You can' jus' get up an' _leave_ because y' _wan'_ to! Ya coulda _died_ - _she_ coulda died – someone coulda gotten _hurt_, ya coulda _collapsed_ somewhere an' then we'd never _find_ yo' damn stupid Cajun ass! What would Ah've done if Ah got back an' ya had ta tell me ya'd blown off mah sister's arm, or they had ta tell meh ya jus' left in a goddamn bodybag? You tell me that, Remy Etienne LeBeau!"

"Aw, hell, _chere_ – " Remy muttered, gripping her by the shoulders and pulling her towards him, mouth connecting with hers before she'd fully understood what he was even doing. When she realised that her eyes had fluttered closed and that his arms were now around her – even worse, that she was _responding_ – she drew back with a yell. Hank McCoy had slipped from the room several seconds prior to this, having battled his instinct for self-preservation with his equally persistent instinct to see this play out, and having come up with the wisdom that being around the Rogue at present was a poor idea considering his part in the events that had caused her initial anger.

"What the – what are you – " she tried, not managing to string together the words she wanted to say properly, and he shrugged and reached out to brush back her errant bangs. She pulled away.

"You don' get t' do that – _no one_ gets ta do that," she said with a slight sob, and he winced at the look on her face.

"_Chere_ – Rogue... Don' look at me like dat... **Rogue!**" she was out the door before he had a chance to stop her, and he put his head in his hands as he cursed himself for being so completely stupid.

_

* * *

_

Having heard the shouting and the banging about but not wanting to brave her sister's wrath, it had seemed odd to Laura that she then heard the unmistakable sounds of Rogue's boots on the stairs and _then_ the closing and locking of her sister's bedroom door. Both of them favoured to have rooms slightly apart from the corridors the others lived on. Laura because the noise and waking hours of the others sometimes disturbed her, and Rogue because she needed privacy to retain her sanity. Both of them also found that having rooms further away from the others' meant that there was less chance of bumping into anyone when they were feeling antisocial in the weekends, and that it made it easier to play loud music without getting complaints from the occupants of neighbouring rooms. But what surprised Laura the most were the barely audible – even to her heightened senses – sounds of muffled weeping she heard from her sister's room.

Leaving her own, she approached Rogue's door cautiously, and waited outside, ears pricked. There was no denying it; Rogue was crying. Stealthily, true, but still crying. She knocked on the door. The silence was ominous.

"Rogue? It's Laura," she called, trying again, and this time there was a muffled,

"Ah'm angry with all of you, go away..."

"You never cry when you are angry. Let me in or I will break the lock," Laura warned, feeling entitled to threats of door demolition when Rogue had just finished decimating half the doors in the mansion herself.

"No you won'," Rogue said in a weak voice, and Laura extended her claws with the well known _~snickt~ _to prove her point.

"Don' break it, Ah'm comin'," Rogue said with a sniff from within, and Laura heard the lock being turned. The door opened a crack and she entered and locked it behind her again, respecting Rogue's wish to keep people out. The room was utterly dark but Laura could easily make out her sister, who had resumed the foetal position on her bed and was sobbing silently.

"Rogue..?" She approached the weeping Southern Belle cautiously, fearing a potential explosion of anger while Rogue was in such a fragile state.

"I am sorry... We did not think you would be so angry. Charles said that it would be good for Remy to get out and exercise a little apart from the others, where he could do no damage to anyone or anything. I did not mean for you to worry..." Laura didn't know what to do. Her strong, asserted sister who always knew what she wanted and how to get it, was crying bitterly. Had they done such a wrong thing? No one had been injured and he would be fine. She thought that she and Torpid had handled it well enough, so why would Rogue see fit to cry over something that had gone well despite the circumstances?

"Rogue... Please tell me why you are crying. We are sorry... I will not do it again. Even if he asks me to. I promise you," Laura said uneasily, sitting next to Rogue and stroking back her hair. Her sister's makeup was following her tears on their path down her cheeks, and her eyes were closed.

"Laura... honey jus' go away... Ya don' understand this an Ah don' wanna explain it raght now... Please leave..." she mumbled between hiccups, and Laura shook her head.

"I want to know. Tell me. You made me feel better when I was crying. I want to help," she said insistently, and Rogue opened her eyes and looked at her little sister.

"Ah'm in love with Remy," she said quietly, tears spilling over her lashes afresh, and Laura's eyes widened as she understood the implications of this.

"Always?" she asked, and Rogue nodded.

"But that's such a long time..." Laura marvelled, the concept of apparently unrequited 'long-distance' love foreign to her.

"It's pathetic is what it is," Rogue said bitterly, and Laura cocked her head to one side.

"Kitty says love is a beautiful thing," she offered hopefully, and Rogue laughed, mirthless and soft.

"Kitty ain' never been in love with a guy who used her t' get what he wan'ed an' then up an' left her for three years, honeypie. Kitty doesn' know anythin' about it." Laura thought hard on this for a moment. It was sound in principal. Kitty could not relate, therefore her opinion was void.

"Is love not beautiful then?" Rogue reached up and touched Laura's face with her gloved hand, smiling through her tears.

"Baby... Love is the most hurtful, evil, bloody lie in the whole world, an' that's why people work so hard to hold on to it. What humans love most of all is believin' that they _can_ believe in thangs – includin' other people. Love lahke the love you feel for ya fam'ly, or the kinda love John and Wanda have, that's _real_, but you know as well as Ah do that it still hurts lahke hell sometahmes... The good jus' outweighs the bad when we look back on it..." Laura considered this, too. Again, it made perfect sense. It hurt, but it made things better, just like so much else in the world.

"Sometimes it has to be bad to feel good," she said decisively, and Rogue nodded, letting her hand fall with a sigh.

"An' sometahmes ya' feel bad an' don' ever get ta feel the good parts..."

_

* * *

_

Remy was flicking charged cigarette butts over the edge of the cliff from his position leaning against the rails of the gazebo, trench coat slung over a bare chest and pants, remorse and self-loathing preventing him from feeling the considerable cold of the evening air. The stars were out, the sky having darkened to night at four P.M, and Remy LeBeau didn't give a shit that he was in danger of catching pneumonia, as long as he could smoke and torture himself far, far away from the house where, somewhere within, his Rogue was so angry with him. The other mutant who manoeuvred himself onto the railing in a bizarrely uncomfortable-looking perching position with an easy, fluid movement very nearly became Remy's emotional catharsis through the medium of the old push-to-the-death until he heard what was the unmistakable sloshing of liquid in a bottle, and he decided to see where this led him instead of murdering his unwelcome companion.

"Fuck off," he said with a growl in his voice that was answered by an actual growl.

"Up yours," Kyle spat with an impressive exhalation of smoke as accompaniment. He proffered what Remy could now see was a fairly full bottle of whisky and the Cajun took it to the tune of Kyle's added remark of,

"Have a drink and shut up." It seemed like sound advice to an ailing heart. Remy took a long pull and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked sideways at the other mutant, who was apparently quite at ease balanced on the railing with what appeared to be three separate lit cigarettes between the fingers of his left hand, which were bound to the first joint with something shiny and black.

"Destructive personality much?" Remy asked with a snigger, and the fanged feral turned a distinctly unamused face to look at him.

"Whiny little bitch, much?" he asked tonelessly, and Remy shrugged.

"Not in de mood t' fight y' t'night, _homme_," he said matter-of-factly, and Kyle blew out a thin stream of smoke.

"Another time, then."

"Didn' mean t' nearly blow up de _fille_," Remy said, a hint of apology in his voice, and Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Is this your take on bar therapy or are you actually _talking_ to me?" Remy drew on his own cigarette as he watched with some fascination Kyle's version of smoking, which really did involve all three fags at once.

"T'ought y'd care dat I didn' mean t' almos' blow Laura's arm off," he said with put-on indifference.

"She wouldn't have, why should I?" Kyle asked, with some disbelief.

"Wouldn' care? Dat she'd lost an arm?" Remy snorted, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

"She'd just have reattached it. Healing factor plus amputation equals field surgery and complete recovery. Jesus." He flicked a spent butt over the edge, then added,

"However, I did mind carrying you about when the girls decided they didn't feel like leaving you in the cold so I wouldn't have to go for take-out." Remy gave him a flat look and said,

"_T__rès drôle_." Kyle grinned at him.

"Too easy, couldn't resist. I'm like that," he said, taking the whisky from the Cajun and drinking deeply.

"Y're **sometin'** alrigh'," Remy muttered darkly, the idea of becoming this freak's dinner somehow not appealing to him, and Kyle laughed.

"Takes one to know one."

"If y' really don' give a shit about de _fille_, den why de hell are y' givin' y'self grief like dis?" Remy asked irritably, and Kyle gave him a curious look.

"Are you asking because you're concerned for her emotional wellbeing, or mine? I didn't realise we'd bonded already, how lovely," he said with what might have been a giggle tacked on to the end if he had been less big and scary.

"Cut de crap, _mon ami_.Y' tellin'_ moi _dat y' jus' happen t' hang aroun' de Institute f' kicks even t'ough y' Wolverine's leas' favourite person in de' worl' an de ot'er guys hate y' guts?" Remy said coldly, and Kyle just looked at him.

"Is what I do really any different to what you used to do? What if I told you I'm planning on kidnapping her – would that make it alright with you?" Remy glared at him, eyes glowing hotly.

"Don' talk about dat. Y' don' know de firs' ting abou' what wen' on back den," he warned, and Kyle smiled at him, the expression looking genuinely pleasant.

"I know enough to know that what you did wasn't just for some selfish rescue mission that needed her powers to work. No one as professional as you would go to such lengths to secure her like that when you couldn't know how long she would stay on your side. You could easily have done the job alone – it's what used to pay your way through life after all – so why go to the trouble of bringing the girl? There's only one answer to that one," he said, sounding almost friendly.

"Seriously, _homme_, no offence, but y' do know dat what y' doin' wit' Laura is sick an' wrong, an' dat y' need t' seek help?" Remy asked seriously. Kyle chuckled, a sexy, deep-throated sound.

"I know _exactly_ what I'm doing with Laura, _Gambit_. And I don't need _you_ telling me whether or not it's healthy."

"Usin' de _fille_ f' sex an' pissin' off de Wolverine f' no real reason 'cept a deathwish an' t' pass de time?" Remy asked, eyes glowing briefly. Kyle shook his head with a sigh, grinning.

"You have no idea how amusing it is to hear _you,_ all condemning, when you used to do exactly the same thing with countless women – to say nothing of your sudden high and mighty outlook on the whole stalking deal," he said with mock sadness, blowing a smokering.

"You're wrong, by the way, about Laur' and I," he added, passing the whisky to Remy who took a swig and raised an eyebrow at the other guy.

"I s'pose y' wan' Remy t' believe dat y' not sleepin' wit' de _fille_, an' dat y' didn' stalk her?" he asked flatly, and Kyle shrugged.

"I don't care about belief. If something's a matter of faith then it's not worth getting hung up over. But no, I didn't stalk her. I am sleeping with her though," he admitted, and Remy laughed.

"So followin' her an' spyin' on her an' her _famille_ long before y' ever make y'self known t' dem isn' stalkin' after all? Damn, Remy gon' tell dat t' de Judge when his case comes up!"

"You go ahead and do that – not that anyone's ever going to turn _you_ in," Kyle said lightly.

"So what, Remy's dyin' t' know. What de fuck _were_ y' doin' if it wasn' stalkin'?"

"Tracking her." Remy laughed in spite of himself.

"Like an animal? _Homme_, y' got serious issues!" he chuckled, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

"We have _so_ much in common," he sneered.

"Fine, fine, tell Remy what y' mean," Remy said, wiping his eyes and composing himself.

"I knew about Xavier's. I knew about Wolverine being around these parts. I just came up here to see if it was true," Kyle said, and Remy interrupted.

"How'd y' know all dat?" Kyle bared his fangs in a smile.

"Stole the information." Remy raised the patented LeBeau eyebrow of 'Continue'.

"I used to be a lab rat just like Laura," Kyle said unhelpfully, and Remy whistled.

"Jesus Chris'... Y' not a Sabretooth clone, are y'?" Kyle narrowed his eyes.

"Hell no! I'm nothing to do with that bastard! _Fuck_ you – fuck _all_ of you!" His raised voice echoed in the snowy stillness around them and Remy took a step back, raising his hands.

"Hey, don' take it de wrong way, _mon ami_, didn' mean it like dat. I used t' work wit' dat piece o' shit, I can' imagine what it's like t' be compared t' dat monster. Take it easy," he said calmly, and Kyle shook his head, laughing bitterly.

"You've got the eyes against you, I get that. That has to be a slap in the face. But your family took you in _because_ of that - taught you a trade, kept you alive. My family kicked me out the second this shit started up," he gestured to himself with the hand not holding his two remaining cigarettes.

"It's kind of difficult to hide claws and fangs when you're twelve and half the time you're not even sure you're still a human being. Along comes some organisation telling you they're going to help you, make it go away, and the next thing you know you're living half your days in a cell in a laboratory being sliced and diced and poked with needles and the other half you're..." He shuddered, curling his claws inwards and looking away. Remy saw dark spots fall from his hands to the snow-swept floor of the gazebo.

"I wasn't the only one. There were others. Then there was an accident... Place got demolished. I got away. I was free for ten days. _Ten days_ before some other fuckers got wind of where I was and tracked me down. They gave me a choice. I was either with their team and they'd train me, help me control whatever the hell it was the others had done to me, or I wasn't." Remy nodded. He knew deals like that.

"I was out of control. They screwed with my head and I didn't know what I was doing. They trained me. I did shit for them..." He took a deep breath and went on.

"Then they started fucking with me again. Told me they could make me stronger. _Improve_ me. I didn't want that. I'd heard them talking about Wolverine, about all of that. I stole the files and got the hell out."

"Dey jus' let y' walk outta dere _pas probleme?_" Remy asked incredulously, and Kyle tilted his head to one side.

"I didn't walk. I fucking ran. And no, they didn't just _let_ me." The undertone in his voice led Remy to deduce that questioning just how he got away would be a bad idea.

"So y' came up here t' see de _professeur_'s dream o' mutant coexistence?" he asked encouragingly, and Kyle nodded.

"Took a while. But that's not relevant. Came up here, found the place, saw Laura – and the others... She wasn't in the file. She... I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand what it is." Kyle spread his hands helplessly, then added,

"But I don't need to tell you what seeing a girl kick arse can do to a guy." Remy chuckled.

"True dat. So y' saw de _fille_ doin' her ting an' y' had t' see if she was like y'self?"

"Guess you get that part at least," Kyle grinned.

"You know, from what I've heard and what Laur' tells me, you and her sister are almost as alike as me and Laura." Remy shrugged.

"_Ma chere_'sdeep Sout', so am I. She likes de same music, she's had a tough childhood, we're bot' stubborn as hell... Guess y' could say we're alike."

"Laur' says Rogue still has your card..." Kyle said quietly, and Remy looked at him sharply.

"She only knows because when she first arrived she made a point of searching the entire place top to bottom to find out what kind of people she was going to be living with. She wanted to make sure there was nothing behind their facade. She found it hidden in a box or something. That was a long time before she understood what it was or what it meant." Remy's puzzled expression led him to continue.

"Laur' has trouble with emotions. She doesn't understand them very well. She was never allowed to be a child. At least I had a childhood before the mutation set in..."

"Oh, so y' choose t' be a cold bastard on purpose whereas de _petite_ don' have a choice abou' who she is?" Remy scoffed, and Kyle smiled sadly.

"I choose not to _care_. You should know all about that..."

_

* * *

_

The second he walked in the door, Kitty had her finger firmly planted on his chest and her big blue eyes fixed on him with what he could only surmise was all her combined hatred for all the evils in the world deflected onto his person.

"What did you do?" she asked dangerously, and Remy noticed Lance behind her.

"Congratulations, _homme_," he said with a nod at Kitty's finger, and Lance grinned.

"Thanks." Kitty looked at him with disapproval.

"Don't, like, _encourage_ him, Lance," she scolded.

"Sorry Kitten," Lance mumbled, grin vanishing like mist on a sunny morning.

"You did something to Rogue you big jerk, and now she's like, _really upset_. You better _fix_ this!" Kitty said angrily, jabbing Remy with her pointy little finger.

"Owch! I can' fix dis, _petite_, Rogue won' come near Remy an' Remy can' go near Rogue as long as Laura's watchin' her door!" Kitty crossed her arms.

"How do you like, know that Laura's watching Rogue's door?" Remy froze.

"I – uh – "

"You were like, _spying_ on her? Like, oh my God! How did you even know what room it was?" Once again, Remy's brain failed him. Pickling it in whisky and nicotine after such a long period of abstinence had perhaps been a poor plan. Kitty's eyes widened in sudden revelation.

"Someone told you," she deduced, and at Remy's frown she gasped loudly.

"_He_ told you?" Remy winced.

"He was _with_ you? This is like, a total _nightmare!_ I told you, Lance, didn't I _tell_ you that jerk was _just like_ Remy? Oh my God! I am _so_ telling Logan about this, this can so not be allowed to keep _happening!_" Kitty swung around with all manner of purpose in the way her bangs swished about her pretty face and prepared to stride to wherever Logan was with yet more purpose, but Remy caught her arm.

"_Petite_, no! Please, don' tell de Wolverine," he pleaded, and Kitty gave him a cold look.

"Why not? You both totally _deserve_ to be kicked out on your – "

"Kitten, let him finish? Logan used to think I oughtta be kicked out on my ass," Lance said calmly, and Kitty regarded him suspiciously.

"I thought you hated that guy," she said slyly, and Lance shrugged.

"I think people deserve a shot at proving they're not as bad as they look," he said honestly, and Kitty's eyes softened.

"Oh, _Lance_..." her voice was about as gooey as Remy could stand without gagging but he held it in as she turned back to him and said,

"Fine. But Lance is going with you and you are going to _talk_ to Rogue and make this right." Remy closed his eyes and mouthed a 'thank you' at the ceiling, and Kitty made an angry noise.

"But that other idiot is totally not allowed in the house and if you screw up with Rogue the two of you are _so_ getting to feel Logan's wrath!" she warned.

"_Petite_, y' have a heart o' **gold**," Remy said charmingly, dodging past her and sprinting off up the stairs.


	10. Part 10

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own X-Men, X-Men Evolution, or anything else pertaining to the X-Men franchise. If I did, WildChild and X-23 would be resident Couple of the Year, Wanda and John would be promoted to Empress and Consort of the Universe, Remy would take off his shirt in every other scene/panel, and there would be a great deal more graphic, gratuitous sex. Because of these things, I am sure it wuld also be vastly more popular than it is now. And Evo would not have been cancelled. In your faces.**

_The Wheel Of Time keeps turning, and we age and wither and die indiscriminate of age, level of hotness, or wealth in Swiss accounts – Sorry, wrong fic. EHEM._

_**It's a new year! Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!! And we are back in business, cuddlebumps'! Full of champagne, expensive cheeses, and with all ten fingers and both eyes in working order! And so, the fiction continues! What, we ask, will our poor, tortured heroes and heroines be forced to endure next? What perilous love-related issues await them? Will they ever survive all the misunderstandings and have that damn orgy you've been waiting for since you started this fic?! Well, we'll see. Persnally, I'm a big fan or orgies but that may be a line of inquiry for some different, M-rated muses XD **_

_**Now, to the praise! Fostersb, happy New Year and I have to say, I worked hard on our request to have our lovely Southern Belle confess her love for Remy, unfortunately, she confessed it to everyone but him. You can't win 'em all ^^ Ashy, I'm sorry you had to wait for this, but the holiday season – and Alice – got in the way and I had to put it off in favour of gorging myself on seasonal dishes the volume of which could have fed small villages, and larking about in the snow until all them damn village-feeding calories fell off me arse. I know you'll forgive me though^^ Chica! I'm afraid Remy and Kyle are not so heavily featured in this update, but they shall have their day once the womenfolk get all their angst out there, I promise! Gidgeygirl, our newest reviewer, I'm glad you started reading and I'm glad you like it so far, let me know if this is up to the mark, eh? TitansRule – hoping you had a great holiday and ate as many platters of nosh as is humanly possible so as to be able to hibernate for the rest of the borng parts of the festive season (such as clearing the table and tidying all the giftwrappings XD) and I hope you let me know if this is good enough as a post-Chrimbo offering! Midnight Wolfy, who got me craving Frosties, thanks for letting me know I'm not as shit a writer as I sometimes think, and for reminding me of the joys of suger-frosted breakfast cereals! Khwhitelion – I really honestly wish that I could animate or something and turn all my fics into animated webisodes and thus continue X-Men Evolution, but sadly it is not to be as I just can't animate worth a sacrificial goat's arse and unfortunately I'd likely be sued to Kingdom Come – however, I'm hoping you'll continue to enjoy the fics and let me know! Larky! I hope you had a fabulous festive season and as always your approval makes it all worthwhile. I missed ya honeypie^^ Yersi Fanel – glad you like it, stay tuned and rock on! With tight spandex and leather boots, **_

_**Your loving Author,**_

_**Valkyrien! XD**_

_

* * *

_

_**Who Knew?**_

_Part 10_

He didn't know if he could trust the plan, but it was all they'd had, and now that his conspirations had been revealed by the suspicious Kitty, he felt doubly unsure that the plan would work. After all, he didn't for a second doubt that Kyle was _just_ the sort of person who'd enjoy pretending to help a bloke only to sit back and laugh himself stupid when he landed Remy in it, as it were. And he also didn't doubt that the _'it'_ he'd be landing in would end in tears if Kyle didn't manage to get Laura out of Rogue's room long enough for Remy to get some groveling done. Therefore it was with a completely panicked staccato to his heart that he waited along the corridor from Rogue's room for the door to click open and Laura to leave. After about a year's wait – at least it felt like a year – it finally happened.

The door made the long-wished-for clicking noise, Laura poked her head out and sniffed the air before closing it behind her and walking down the corridor in the opposite direction, and Remy almost crossed his fingers for an abscence of more than an hour, although Kyle had made it clear that he might only be able to square them about ten minutes if Laura was still angry. He wondered vaguely whether the other mutant was enough of a masochist that he'd be willing to endure a solid beating from his on-again off-again, perfect-weapon, genetic-experiment maybe-girlfriend to further Remy's cause, and then decided it didn't matter as long as he bought enough time for Remy to get things done. The master thief made an undignified sprint towards Rogue's door, let himself in with very little mastery involved seeing as it wasn't locked, and closed it behind him with little to no stealth. Rogue, sitting in the window, looking throughly bemused and thankfully free of tears, looked up with a frown that turned to a hateful glare.

"Go away," she said, tone measured but no less angry for that.

"_Chere_, I gotta talk t' y'," he began, but she held up a forbidding hand that silenced him immediately.

"One, we are _not_ talkin', an two, Ah'm kinda _busy_ raght now, so why don't you get the hell outta mah room?" she grated, and he blanched.

"I just wan'ed t' – "

"Jus' get out, okay? Ah have ta see this," she turned back to whatever she was watching outside. For some reason, he felt anger welling up inside him where before there had been contrition and he found himself taking the steps into her room that brought him to stand right next to her, much to her disapproval, and she looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

"Rogue, we can' jus' pretend notin' happened!" he said, far more firmly than he really felt he could back up, and she opened her mouth no doubt to test that bravado, when out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw –

"_Merde!_" Her glare turned to a cruelly amused little smirk as she looked outside briefly and shrugged, saying airily,

"See that, Swamp Rat? That's what happens when ya piss off mah sister."

_

* * *

_

Rogue found the widening of his red-and-black eyes strangely comforting, knowing that he was at least a fraction as frightened by the knowledge that Laura would have no qualms doing to him what she was doing right now out on the lawn as Rogue had been earlier by all the strange, terrible emotions he had forced her to relive. Emotions she had buried as deeply as she could longer ago than she cared to think on.

On first sight, it could almost look as though Laura was dancing with her blonde adversary, the pale moonlight glowing on his hair and her unsheathed claws alike, but the dark flecks that spattered the snow beneath their feet whenever she touched him, and the way they were clashing rather than coming together in anything as elegant as a dance gave the truth away. He was evading her rather than fighting back, but she was more than clearly attacking him with intent, and the effect generated was frightening as well as morbidly beautiful. Her claws slashed through the air as he ducked beneath them and turned away from her, only to be caught by her vicious back-kick as she twisted to follow him. He never so much as flinched when she drew back and waited for his reaction, claw dark-stained and breathing heavily as she moved away to regard her handiwork.

She was smiling, the smile that came when she didn't have to hold back, when she didn't have to remember that the others were really only novices in the art of war, that they were family and not for slaughtering for the sake of it. She was smiling, talking to him, and Rogue was at once chilled and fascinated by it. The flashes she managed to see of his face weren't enough to paint a picture of his reaction to it all, but if she had to guess, she'd say the little she could see looked more like self-imposed penitence than any enjoyment she knew of.

The bright red flash that scored the snow between them as Laura spoke to her willing opponent indicated that the household was getting involved, but the way she interposed herself between him and the mansion told Rogue that their meddling was unwelcome in the extreme. She thought she could hear shouting, opened her window a crack to listen in, Remy leaning in over her shoulder. She ignored it, just as she fully intended to ignore the little ache just beneath her skin that wished him closer, wanted more things to ignore.

" – leave her alone," Jean was calling, clearly not wanting _her_ Scott to get involved, and a sharp, flaring anger rose up in Rogue. Jean was not part of Laura's family. She had never been able to look past the girl's upbringing to the fact that she was just a child, alone and unwanted in a world that had so far used her in ways more horrific than Jean Grey was capable of understanding.

"... on our lawn, Jean," she heard him reply, sounding peeved, and Laura took advantage of their disagreement to grab Kyle's hand in a gesture too comfortable for someone she'd just stabbed in the lower back, and make good their escape, fleeing the scene like some kind of perverted version of Bonnie and Clyde – while Remy took advantage of Rogue's distraction to covertly rest his head on her shoulder, bringing her right back to their original spat.

"What the hell do ya think _you're_ doin'?!" Her hair whipped across his face as she turned her head to face him, and he gave her an innocent, pleading look.

"Rogue, please don' be mad at me f' what happened – I didn' tink y'd be so angry..." He seemed unable to really apologise for it, although he sounded both sincere and upset. She felt unable to accept either.

"Ah don' wanna talk about it. An' Ah don' wan' you in mah room anymore, Cajun. Ah think you should go home." She didn't know why that slipped out with the rest, but it did, and when it hit him, she knew she might just as well have physically struck him again. His eyes dimmed to a muted scarlet and he looked at her with an odd, wrong sort of blankness on his face.

"Y' wan' me gone, _chere?_ F' doin' what I did?" Her mouth was dry and she didn't know what to tell him for all that something beneath her treacherous skin was asking her to say no. She didn't want him standing so close to her, looking at her as though she'd done him some terrible wrong.

"Ah – Ah don' wan' – Ah – " He didn't seem to be listening, and she knew that he wasn't when he leant in and kissed her again, his arm curving up over her back, holding her to his chest as his other hand trailed through her hair, and she found herself responding to it _again_, _liking_ it again, and she wanted to cry, but she already must have been because he pulled away, something shimmering on his thumb and he smiled at her weakly and said,

"I never mean' t' make y' cry, _chere_..." She blinked away the blurriness and pressed her lips together, her voice when it came sounding certain, and tired.

"You are goin' ta leave me again." He rested his forehead against hers, fingers gently stroking her cheek, coming to a still on her neck as though he were afraid to really touch her, and the thought seemed to hurt even more than the thought of him _not_ being afraid to touch her, somehow.

"Again?"

"Jus' lahke before. Ah'm convenient, isn' that raght, Remy? Ah'm a constant. Ah never change. Ya know ya can always come back ta us an' we'll help you out because that's what we do... What Ah do..." He looked away, taking her hands in his as though he didn't know what else to do.

"That's not true, Rogue. I don' – "

"What were ya tryin' ta do, Remy? Huh? Touch the untouchable? No one gets ta do that – not even you. Remember how well it wen' last tahme ya did? Only reason Ah didn' let Logan gut you is because Ah fel' sorry f' you. Little orphan Remy with the Daddy who used ya all your lahfe... Ah fel' lahke you'd had it bad enough already... But you don' even have the heart ta show others the same mercy Ah showed you, do ya? You're jus' usin' me an' you're jus' usin' mah fam'ly... Again..." She hated the sound of her voice – soft, venomous, trying to wound him more than he had already wounded her. Succeeding. The colour of his eyes reminded her of blood. If she stared for long enough she could almost imagine they _were_ bleeding.

"Is it lahke stealin' somethang they said couldn' be stolen? Ah'd kinda lahke to know... Is it just the rush or is it one more notch on your bedpost? One more thang noone else can take that you've had?" He let go of her hands slowly, his eyes disbelieving, hurt, but the rest of his face still strangely blank. It looked unnatural.

"You ain' ever gon' forgive me, are y' _chere?_" he asked quietly, eyes dull and veiled now, more like congealing blood than something fresh and still painful. Dead and gone. Hopeless. The colour of blood when the patient couldn't be saved. When the heart was never going to beat again. Rogue had seen that colour too many times.

"I won' ever be notin' but a thief an' a liar t' y'... I won' ever be good enough..." He stood up silently, only then did she realise he'd been kneeling beside her all along, and she found she couldn't move, found that like a killing blow, she couldn't take those words back. Was that what Laura was looking for? Something that didn't die? Something she could damage to her heart's content whose own heart would carry on beating regardless? Something where she knew she'd have to go so much further to deliver that final blow than with anyone else? Laura had once said something to her, soon after coming to live with them, something that had seemed innocent then, as though it were an epiphany for the younger girl... _'Sometimes you don't even have to kill'_. Looking back, her 'sister's face had seemed almost wistful, as though that were something elusive, rare, unattainable but desirable all the same. It was just frightening now. Because it seemed true.

"Guess I was de fool f' tinkin' y' could ever see me diff'ren'ly," he mumbled, suddenly looking just as young and unsure as she felt, and she found herself again realising that he probably was.

"Ah don' wanna have ta see you at all," she said quietly, and found that this was true as well. She couldn't bear to have him there without being able to express what she wanted to, when all she seemed to be able to say was hurtful, true, and unfair. He closed his eyes completely, as though the light had gone from his irises quite suddenly in the dark room.

"I jus'... 'M so sorry, Rogue..."

"Yeah, well... Ah've been sorry longer than you have. At least it's on mah terms now."

"I never wan'ed t' leave y' back den, y' know dat... 'M not y' Prince Charmin', _chere_. Jus' t'ought maybe dis time 'round I could be better dan y' t'ought I was..." She wanted to get up, fold him into her arms and tell him that she wished so many things beginning with being able to change the past and ending with wanting to change their future, but she couldn't.

"If y' wan' me gone, Rogue, I'll leave. I don' wan' t' hurt y' anymore dan I already have," he said hollowly, and she nodded, automatically.

"It wasn' the kiss that hurt," she said simply.

"It was ev'rythang else."

_

* * *

_

She wasn't even crying anymore when Laura arrived in her doorway, flushed and angry, but looking somehow smug and exhilarated at the same time. For a split second, Rogue felt like throwing her out, felt like even the bloody stains on the younger girl's cuffs were taunting her. She felt sick at herself when she realised that the knowledge that Laura's interactions with other people were just as messed up as hers was comforting to her.

"Did ya kill him?" she asked bluntly, voice flat and lifeless, and Laura entered the room properly, kicking the door shut behind her. She sniffed the air before replying, her mouth twisting into a grimace.

"I smell Cajun. He was here. Diversion tactics. Clever," she grunted, plopping herself down on the windowseat opposite her sister, legs crossed.

"Guess love really is war," Rogue commented, and Laura tilted her head, looking at her suspiciously.

"I should not have left you, should I?" Rogue shrugged.

"You do what you think is best, sweetie. Ah ain' involved in all that business." Laura's eyes softened and she put her hand out as if to grasp Rogue's, drawing it back to rest in her lap when she noticed it was less than pristine.

"I should not have left you. He said something to you, did he not? You are not crying. You are hurt. Maybe I should kill _him_." The matter-of-fact way she said it, as though it would be a tactically sound decision to murder Remy in semi-cold blood made Rogue laugh. She laughed so hard her chest hurt, covering her eyes with her hands as the laughing turned hysterical and she fell forward into her sister's bloodied embrace, still laughing, unable to stop. Laura's arms curved around her protectively, muscles tensed in what Rogue assumed was an expression of her uncertainty regarding how best to snap her sister out of it. The hysterics subsided on their own, however, and Rogue clutched Laura's sleeves as she looked her square in the eye, her own eyes red-rimmed but otherwise looking as beautiful as ever. Laura had always admired that about the Southern Belle. She was as unfailingly lovely whatever happened to her.

"Laura, do you love that piece a shit you were beatin' 'round the garden out there?" Rogue asked, deadly serious, and Laura froze, searching for an answer.

"Don' think about it, just tell me," Rogue insisted, shaking her a little, and the girl shook her head.

"I don't know, why is it important?" Laura cried, sounding almost offended, and Rogue made an impatient noise.

"Because y'all have a real shot together an' Ah don' want you repeatin' mah mistakes! You can still have him if ya wan' him – it's too late f' me, Ah don' wan' you ta have ta be in mah position someday!" she yelled, and Laura stared at her.

"What position?"

"Tellin' the man ya love ta get the hell outta yo' lahfe before the shit really hits the fan," Rogue said softly, brushing back a section of Laura's hair gently, such love in her eyes that Laura felt for a moment unworthy of it.

"You told him to leave? Properly?" Rogue nodded, looking down at her hands.

"He's goin' home tomorrow," she expanded, and Laura shook her head, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"That wasn't supposed to happen! Why did you do that? You were supposed to make up!" she cried, literally pulling at her hair in upset, and Rogue looked at her in shock.

"Laura Howlett! What on God's green earth are you talkin' about?!"

"You two! You and Remy! You were supposed to have a fairytale ending, like Kitty and Lance, you were supposed to make up and everything was supposed to be fine and you've ruined it all!" Laura rarely raised her voice, she rarely needed to, but she was shouting now, and all Rogue could do was stare at her, nonplussed.

"You're not serious!" she cried, and Laura leapt up and pointed at her like she'd committed some awful crime and should be lynched.

"You were supposed to be alright this time, it isn't fair!" she shouted, and Rogue stood up, hands on her hips.

"Now you jus' listen here, missy – "

"I won't! I won't listen – people who love each other are supposed to be together and you've ruined everything – I hate you for this!" She was crying openly, and when Rogue made a grab for her arm she turned tail and ran out the door, leaving it wide open after her.

_

* * *

_

She ran right into Logan, who'd been on his way up the stairs to find either one of his 'daughters' and begin the father-daughter talks. Helmet still in hand, he grabbed her shoulders and held her away from him, looking her over. Seeing tears, his first instinct was surprisingly to give her a hug, something born of long years of dealing with Rogue and Kitty, but with Laura he squeezed her shoulders and asked,

"What's wrong honey?" She looked at him with tears running down her face and wailed,

"Daddy I'm so confused!" He folded her into his arms and gave her that hug, kissing her hair.

"Tell me what's wrong, honey. I'll fix it," he promised her, and she sobbed into his shirt.

"Rogue told Remy to go home and he's leaving tomorrow but she loves him and he loves her and this is all _wrong!_" Logan suppressed a grunt of disapproval at having his suspicions confirmed and decided it was best not to overload her emotionally.

"Why is it wrong, sweetheart? If Rogue doesn't want him here then he shouldn't be here – even the Cajun has enough sense to see that," he reasoned, but she pulled away and shook her head violently.

"No, no he has to stay – for her, he has to stay or she'll always be sad and she'll never have her happy ending like Jean and Kitty and Wanda and I want her to be happy – and – and – " she put her hands over her face, overwhelmed, and he put his arm around her and steered her downwards to the kitchen, where he planted her in a chair and sat down with her, taking her hands and wiping her tears away with one of his own calloused appendages.

"There's more to this than Rogue, isn't there?" he asked sternly, and she nodded, looking at the floor. If nothing else, she was always honest when asked a straight question.

"Tell me what's really buggin' ya about this whole thing," he demanded, and she bit her lip.

"I don't want to. You can't help." He laughed, a short, sarcastic burst of mirth that made her look up sharply.

"Sweetheart, you just let your Daddy know exactly what's goin' on an' he'll move mountains for ya. You ask your sister, she'll tell you. Now what's this all about, eh? Really." His eyes were soft, but his tone was hard and insistent and she felt something shift inside her and blurted out,

"If Rogue can't live happily ever after like Kitty and Jean, neither can I!" and then promptly shut her mouth again as though unsure how the truth escaped her in the first place. Logan fixed her with a hard stare that she avoided almost guiltily.

"This wouldn' have anything ta do with you know who, would it?" he asked in true disappointed-daddy tones and she mumbled something in the affirmative. He sighed heavily.

"Honey... Laura, look at me." She did with some hesitation, and he gave her a tired smile.

"I've always tried to do right by you an' Rogue. You're my girls an' I love you both, no matter what crazy-ass ideas you get into your pretty heads," he said, and she smiled a little.

"I may not always like the things you two decide to do... Or the people you choose to hang around with... But in the end, as long as none of you are pallin' around with Sabretooth or joinin' some anti-mutant organisation, there's nothin' I can do to stop you makin' your own mistakes an' learnin' from 'em. And I want you to do that. I want you to have the same chances in life as anyone else. Part of that is crashin' and burning sometimes, but that's what life is. And I love you no matter what happens." Her eyes were alight with something entirely new in her.

"That doesn' mean there aren't still rules," he said quickly, but she just smiled happily.

"Thank you, Dad," she said quietly, leaning forward and hugging him, and he returned the gesture.

"Anytime, kid. Now, what are we gonna do about that damn Cajun and your sister?" She grinned at him.


	11. Part 11

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of this, but if Marvel decides to finally get with the romance program and start making some couples that would actually work and then letting them stay together, I WOULD consider helping them out at their request to make sure everyone's favourite couples got the screen/panel time they deserve!!**

_**And now, to the good stuff. Peppymint, it's really all a conspiracy ya know XD ColorCoated, their troubles are almost over I promise, but damn you know you're all enjoying the ride despite the misery ^^ Yo Luna! Hey girl, I hope this measures up to previous efforts, but you let me know, 'kay? I'm always there XD Very little real Kyle/Laura in this chapter but there is some Kyle and Laura seperately. Fostersb, they're all working hard to get right with theirs and make other right with their own so you just let me know if you feel the fixin's been fixed! KHwhitelion, I hope you approve the plan to get things together XD Hey Gidgeygirl! Does this count as a swift kick to the tushyparts? XD Yo Chica, I've done my best to de-hypocrite things for ya here honeybunch but you beter take a look and see if I got it right or not ^^ TitansRule, am I the only one looking forward to the next holiday? Anyway, while we wait, here's some of that good stuff – don't worry, things'll be good. Hey Dholefire, we're testing out a new chapter here and I hope it measures up to past standards, just let us know^^ Larky! I know you're working on non-evo stuff so I have to wait for my fixes, but I promised I'd try and get this done for you so I hope you're stil reading Evo stuff because as always I crave your opinion.**_

_**That's all for now, there's a lot here to take in so let the taking-in begin!**_

* * *

_**Who Knew?**_

_Part 11_

Hank rubbed the little cottonball over the injection point with a dejected sigh, then looked at Remy sadly.

"All done. But I still don't think it's wise to let you go home – that far away from Rogue," he said heavily, and Remy fixed his eyes on the floor, red light dimmed.

"_Je sais_..." he mumbled, and Hank put a large, blue hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"She doesn't really want you gone, son. Women... Especially our Rogue... They're ruled by their fears. And Rogue is afraid that if you stay, you'll only stay as long as you're getting something out of it. I know her." Remy looked up at Hank, the effects of the injection taking hold as he said,

"But I **love** her... _Il n'est pas juste... Ma vie est terminée..._" His voice was weak, and Hank bit back a number of choice comments regarding the folly of youth and the sending home of patients under emotional strain who had relapsed badly as early as two days prior. He smiled at the Cajun, wanting to offer encouragement along the lines of 'she'll come 'round', or 'you're so young, time heals all wounds', but somewhere inside he knew he'd be lying. This young man's place was with Rogue. It was fated. They could be so good for one another, these two bruised souls, they understood each other's pain so well...

"Come on. You'll be leaving soon. We want to get you in the jet before you lose consciousness," he said instead, knowing full well that he was hiding behind the medical side of his duty to the young man, but Remy just nodded dumbly and stood up, following Hank complacently.

_

* * *

_

Laura let Rogue brush her hair out, adjust her jacket, and smooth black lipstick over her lips with that distant look in her eyes, for all it made her feel like a doll. Rogue and Kitty had one thing in common when it came to applying makeup, whether to themselves or others. It gave them something else to think about while they were doing it, and Laura's mission today was all about distraction. She held on to Rogue's gloved hand as they left her room, ducking her head as they passed Jubilee, who gave her a questioning look, and descending to the lower levels in the elevator in complete silence.

Hank had already loaded the sedated Remy into the jet, the tranquilliser Logan's idea to keep the Cajun from 'overloading' while they were in the air. Rogue was to sit beside him throughout the journey, however, hand at the ready. Hank let Laura arrange the silent Rogue in the jet first before she came out again and he assailed her.

"I still think this is a preposterous idea," he said heatedly,

"What if he does have a relapse mid-flight? What if he arrives and the tranquilliser hasn't worn off yet? What if Rogue isn't able to forgive him? There are too many variables to this plan, Laura. I'm not comfortable with this." Laura put a hand on the blue-furred mutant's considerably larger one and looked him in the eye.

"I know. Neither am I. I do not want to go, but this was the only way Logan and I could think of to attempt a reconciliation. Rogue has to be there, Remy cannot be allowed to speak to her during the journey, and she needs to have the option of remaining there without being allowed excuses not to if she so wishes it, hence the bag I packed last night. We have thought of every eventuality, Hank. I promise you, we are as prepared as we can be..." The look on the Beast's face softened to concern, and he placed his other hand on top of hers, squeezing lightly.

"I know you're just trying to help, my dear, but I worry for both of you. I know you'd rather not go with them at all, and I know that Rogue has been largely unresponsive since last night, and I just wonder if this is the right choice to make. I want you two to be happy," he said heavily, brow furrowed as if he felt so very old of a sudden. She smiled at him.

"I want us to be happy, too. That is why I am taking this risk for us. Logan agrees." Hank returned her smile with a weary version of his own and then stopped her as she was about to turn away and re-enter the jet.

"Laura – did you say goodbye to everyone?" he asked, his tone implying that she might not have done. She stiffened visibly.

"Everyone who matters. Take care of them for me, Hank. Please." He nodded, stepped back to allow Logan to manoeuvre the jet around, and Laura disappeared into the black confines, taking her place next to Rogue inside, no doubt. As they taxied down the last stretch of makeshift runway and the hatch opened for them, he waved, and they took off with a muffled roar of machinery, and vanished behind the curtain of water that hid the exit.

_

* * *

_

It really was ludicrously easy to sneak into the mansion undetected. Considering that Remy, Mystique, every last one of the students, and once in a while the postman managed to get in somehow when they weren't supposed to, it seemed rather stupid that they'd even bother with security measures. Certainly it was laughable to be able to just walk in the front door to the mutant stronghold because no one had bothered to activate the coded alarm when the kids left to go sledding nearby. Then again, he mused, divesting his boots of the worst snowy remnants before entering, that brunette had been far too busy laughing at her ice-wielding boyfriend to remember things like protecting their home from likely intruders such as himself.

Not that he was there to intrude in the conventional sense, he maintained, rounding a corner, he was actually there to keep an appointment. He couldn't even remember the last time he had kept an appointment. Or made one. Therefore, musing on the likelihood of them all being murdered in their beds someday because some airheaded teenage girl or other forgot to activate the alarms when returning of an evening, he failed to contemplate the fact that there were other people in residence who had not been seen leaving the mansion. He also failed to think over how weak an excuse it might seem that he wasn't actually there to do the aforementioned murdering but really had the also mentioned appointment. And so, he was genuinely surprised when he almost ran into Storm, who appeared apologetic for the five seconds in which she didn't notice whom she had bumped into.

"Sorry," he mumbled, a flash of unexpected manners coming to the fore without his approval, quickly followed by an irrational sense of complete and total inferiority, as the dark-skinned weather-witch regarded him with a somewhat intrigued gaze.

"So you came after all," she said, mild surprise lurking in her otherwise perfectly civil tone.

"Charles is waiting for you. We didn't think you'd come." Unwilling to answer since it was a fair assumption that he wouldn't show up, he didn't, and instead she smiled at him and motioned towards a set of double doors a few steps away from them.

"Go on in. We've been expecting you all morning." He was unable to quell the sudden,

"Thank you," that escaped him, although he didn't really want to say it, but it made her smile that touch kinder, and she left him there without any sort of fuss. Willing the odd newly-discovered polite streak to shut up and go away, he tapped on the door, and heard a muffled,

"Come in." Steeling himself, he did just that.

_

* * *

_

The world had faded to the point where everything beyond them had become unreal. Just as unreal as the fact that she knew they were on their way to let his Tante resume responsibility for him. The man beside her looked like he ought to be under the loving care of an aunt, or a mother. Even in sleep he looked drawn and weary, and she wanted to smooth his hair from his brow and sing to him as she had done once before. She wanted to protest that they were giving him back to his family when he was still unable to fully control his newly enhanced powers. She wanted to insist that they turn around and allow Hank and Logan to work their magic on him and give him the help they'd promised Mattie they'd give him to begin with.

But whenever she opened her mouth to call out and ask Logan to turn back because this wasn't right, the wound in her heart bled a little harder and she just couldn't do it. Because if she was honest with herself, the concern she felt was only really her awful, painful desire to keep him closer to her for a little while longer, even if she couldn't _keep_ him, and she knew that once she went down that road she wouldn't be able to let go again...

_

* * *

_

He imagined that when the students were placed in the chair in front of Charles Xavier's desk, they felt instantly contrite, and he imagined that it would be a familiar if unpleasant experience for them when they were to be scolded, and a healing one when they came to him for aid. But in his current position, all he felt was a growing apprehension and a feeling that no one had ever sat in front of Charles Xavier who was less deserving of it than him. The Professor's eyes took him in, his face mild, benign, and his glance more concerned than anything else. It rankled. He hated the idea that anyone could be good enough to have that kind of emotion left over for another person.

"Good morning, Mr. Gibney. I had been expecting you sooner, but I think I can guess why you chose ten past nine to make an appearance." He felt instantly weaker for knowing that this all-seeing father-figure knew that he hadn't wanted to show himself until he knew Laura was gone.

"Whatever you and I discuss today, I can assure you, she need never know," Charles went on.

"She'll still know I was here. You can't hide that from her," he found himself saying, perfectly true of course, but the note of wish-it-wasn't in his voice disturbed him.

"Perfectly so. It is my hope that when she returns, you will be able to tell her your reason for coming here yourself, just as it is my hope that your presence in this Institute can cease to be something you would rather not admit to." There was an indefinable sparkle in the old man's eye, and he smiled kindly.

"I'm not so sure that's doable," Kyle admitted, almost wanting to dare the Professor to make it so, to prove that even someone like him had some kind of place in this naive dream of an equal world.

"My dear boy. If you truly want it to be, anything is possible. My question is, are you willing to do what needs to be done to make it so?"

_

* * *

_

Logan wasn't speaking, but Laura felt that the silence was becoming oppressive, and she could tell that her father was feeling it too. She tried to think of something other than Rogue's plight, but anything else her mind touched on was either painful or one of those memories Wanda called 'no-go-recalls', so she settled for looking at the clouds around them. Her mind slid to those very same unwanted thoughts the moment she let her guard down and she found herself mulling over just why Hank's question had upset her. It was true. She'd said goodbye to Storm, called Kitty and Wanda and John, left a message for Torpid, and...

She didn't want to think about that. She didn't need to yet. Right now she should be focusing on the job at hand. Operation Fairytale, as she and Kitty had agreed to name it. Secure Rogue's happily ever after and then come back home and gloat over how it was meant to be. Maybe indulge in a little celebratory girl-talk about how they should marry and what Rogue should wear at the ceremony. Normal, mundane things like that which now shaped her young life. She could worry about her own issues once Rogue's were out of the way. With her sister's life sorted, Laura's would fall into place as well, she just knew it.

She barely noticed that Logan was speaking to her but when she did she realised she'd heard nothing and had to ask,

"Could you repeat that please?" Storm had taught her the importance of manners. She had never needed them before coming to live with her family. Logan sighed as though knowing all too well where Laura's thoughts were occupied and said,

"You know that no matter what happens today, your life is still in your hands, honey. Whatever happens with your sister does not have to determine your future unless you make the same choices she does. You're not the same person." Laura looked away, hiding behind her hair.

"I know that," she said in a small voice, disliking how childish she sounded.

"I don' think you do. I'm telling you now that your life is not gonna be the same as Rogue's just because you love her and she's your sister, okay? I mean that. I know you feel that anything she does you can do too and her failures aren't worth tryin' for because you can't go one better than her, but you have to forget that way of thinkin'. For your own sake." She looked over at him, wishing she could know that it was true.

"But she can do anything, Dad..." she mumbled, and Logan shook his head.

"Your sister used to be a very confused kid, honey. Her powers an' the way she'd lived, the way she'd been used, it all made her real insecure about what she was capable of. She was afraid of what she could do. Now I know that since you've known her she's been a strong person, much stronger than she was when she was your age, but she shows you that side of herself because she wants to be there for you. She wants you to come to her when you need her. It's her way of takin' care of you, an' sometimes I've had to tell her to take some time off and jus' let go of all that because it's too hard bein' the strong one all the time."

Laura didn't like it. It sounded like it made sense, but her sister was the strongest, most honourable person she knew next to Logan. Kitty had her insecurities and had a tendency to lean on Lance a lot, and Wanda's issues sometimes meant that John and the Brotherhood had to protect her from herself and others because she had tenuous control in times of difficulty, but Rogue stood alone, a pillar of unshakeable will that shone through no matter what happened. Somehow, believing that she was only human frightened Laura.

"Rogue has nightmares too, sweetheart. An' they're all about bein' abandoned an' having ta leave us behind because she's afraid that someday her powers are gonna cause an accident and then we won't want her around anymore in case it happens again," Logan said quietly, layers in his voice telling Laura that her sister had sat with Logan after those nightmares, crying on his shoulder and begging him not to let that happen to her. Just like Wanda begged John and the boys not to let them take her away again, and Laura begged her Dad not to let them hurt her.

She was struck by the realisation that even mutants who could move heaven and earth, control minds, and split the world in two woke up crying in the arms of the people who loved them. Why should her sister be any different, she who had been betrayed and deserted so many times?

"But that won't ever happen," Laura protested, and her father looked at her proudly.

"Damn straight it won't. I won't let it. No one's ever gonna hurt my girls again. But you see what I'm tryin' ta say here? You gotta live your life, sweetheart. Rogue's gotta live hers. She'll always be there for you, but her failures aren't yours and your life's not gonna be the same as hers. Do you understand that?" She nodded, and he set his mouth in its usual dissatisfied line.

"Good girl. And whatever happens between her and the Swamp Rat don't mean you can't still be happy when you're ready ta be." The smile on her face, though small, was contented, and she felt the truth of it warm her inside. She could do as she pleased...

But the success of Operation Fairytale was still non-negotiable.

_

* * *

_

Charles' fingers were steepled and his brow creased in deep contemplation as he mulled over the things he had just been told. He had been surprised to find that he could not read the young mutant's thoughts in any way, but had not commented upon it, feeling that it would be best not to admit to having tried that approach to verify his story. For once, he felt obliged to admit to himself that if it was all true then he was glad of his inability to read him. Kyle had been understandably unwilling to share the tale of his youth, but had grudgingly provided Charles with the basics. Childhood, sudden appearance of mutations following what appeared to be a lengthy illness of some kind, the first appearances of the most upsetting side-effects of his mutant genes that caused his parents to revile and cast him out of their home...

It was an upsetting thing to have to listen to. The blonde feral told that part of things in a quiet, halting manner, skating around any possible details regarding where he'd been born, names, dates – anything solid that could be traceable. When asked to explain the exact nature of his mutations as they had first appeared, he had been vague as well, but Charles had gathered that his general appearance had changed dramatically as well as his behaviour and physical abilities. He thought that the vagueness was likely more a matter of how young Kyle had been at the time, and how traumatised he had been by the events. Any child would attempt to block memories like that, it would be unnatural if he could recall everything precisely as it had been.

He had glossed over the short time between leaving his parents and being snapped up by the military-sanctioned organisation that had first attempted to manipulate and warp his mutation, but that too was to be expected. Charles assumed that during that time, Kyle would have been largely operating on instinct alone in an attempt to shut out the pain of losing his whole life in one fell blow the way he had.

He had tried to do the same to his actual time with the first organisation – a period that must have spanned at least a few years – but Charles had pressed for details, and he had become even more thankful that he couldn't pick up anything from the young man when he had briefly mentioned a few of the _enhancements_ and _upgrades_ he'd gotten during this time.

Asked to elaborate on these brief mentionings of just what he had been subjected to during his time there, his voice had dropped to a harsh grate and he had snapped when asked to be more specific regarding a few issues. Charles hadn't wanted to press them further than he'd already done. In truth, the change in the young man that talking about it brought out was inherently disturbing to watch. Charles found that he didn't honestly _want_ to know more than the gist of things and the result of it. Kyle clearly didn't want to give him more than that, either.

After mentioning briefly what he referred to as 'my lapse', which Charles could only guess was a deeper manifestation of his animalistic side, as what had driven his parents to force him to leave out of fear, he hadn't mentioned it again, but Charles was sceptical. Asked to estimate how long he had been with the military organisation he couldn't, and when asked why he admitted to having no memory of long periods of time whilst being subjected to differing experiments. He refused to talk about his escape, or the capture by the second secret organisation to corrupt him during his so far miserable life, but he mentioned that when absconding from them, too, he had destroyed the records held of the Institute and Wolverine in particular, something Charles had not expected.

"Why did you feel that it was necessary to destroy them? Obviously, we'd rather not be known to such factors, but I find it interesting that you would do such a thing," he said honestly, and Kyle shrugged, unnaturally blue eyes meeting his.

"The file said that you used this place to hold mutant children," he replied, and Charles nodded.

"I see. I can only thank you for setting their research back." Kyle's eyes darkened.

"They did it to themselves. Training someone to be able to do those things and then giving them no reason to be loyal to you is just stupid." There was contempt in his tone, but also a measure of bitterness that Charles didn't understand until he added,

"You haven't made that mistake. These children would die for your cause because you've given them a reason to believe that they can win. That it's worth it." Charles looked at him, and was surprised to find that for the first time Kyle stared back with nothing but defiance where before there had been the shadow of a child behind it.

"I can assure you that I would never ask any of these children to die for me or my cause. I intend to win this war without having to shed the blood of those who should be allowed to live full lives, unafraid of being branded unworthy by the rest of the world. I am fighting it for them. They are not here to become soldiers. They are here to learn how to defend themselves and each other from those who do not understand that they're just children with powers they do not want and never asked for. Bigots, and others who are afraid of them even though they are here to learn control so that they won't have to fear themselves," Charles said in a measured, even tone.

"At least they would have that choice," Kyle answered, the shadow returning to his gaze, and Charles paused before asking,

"Did you choose to come here because of us?"

"I wanted to see if it was true." Charles sighed.

"You know I have to ask this, Kyle... Did you mean to begin a relationship with Laura?" The young man tilted his head to one side for a second, regarding him closely.

"And if I did?"

"Then I have to tell you that it isn't relevant at all. As much as I am charged with the wellbeing of the children in my care, as far as I have seen Laura is by far happier when with you. That's really all I care to know about it." Again, it seemed as though a measure of tension he hadn't realised the younger man had been holding on to vanished suddenly.

"Of course, seeing as none of us can make Laura do anything she doesn't want to do, there's nothing I can do about your relationship, but I must warn you that live-in couples do tend to be harassed considerably by the younger students and seeing as both her father and adopted sisters live here too, I foresee complications." Charles looked at Kyle to gauge his response to this generic _'you're all horny teenagers so we __**know**__ you're all doing it but it's your responsibility to deal with the fall-out'_ speech, and the blonde just raised an eyebrow."That's all? I just have to put up with everyone hating me and promise not to do anything illegal while I'm here and that's it?" he asked, sounding as if there had to be some kind of catch.

"We don't like to ask our students to participate in training sessions or the like if they express a desire not to, just as we don't put any of them on missions if they truly do not want to go. Quite frankly, I dislike sending Laura out despite her clear advantage over the others to succeed, and I hope you won't be offended if I say I'm loath to ask you to take part either." Kyle's mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile.

"Yeah, don't send the unstable killer on a mission for your peaceful crusade. Seems like a good call to me," he said wryly, and Charles caught the odd tone of his voice.

"Why would you phrase it like that?" he asked, a little sharply, and Kyle sighed, flexing his claws.

"Professor, I'll be honest with you, both because it's liberating not to have to lie through my teeth and because you should know so that you can make an informed decision about me as opposed to just a biased one," he said, weighing his words as though he wanted to be as honest as he'd just said he would be, but wanted to present it the right way.

"I'm not like Creed. I don't _like_ my powers. They've ruined my life. Everything that's been done to me over the years to _improve_ me, to make me a better soldier, a better killer, has made the original drawbacks of my mutation worse. I'm not really... human... anymore."

_

* * *

_

Hank sat in the kitchen with Storm while she poured out coffee for both of them, and when she sat down next to him and proffered the mug he mumbled,

"Thank you," in a sad, heavy tone that made her look up, eyes clouded with something.

"Ororo?" he asked, noting the change in her demeanour, and she smiled and shook her head lightly.

"It was nothing, Hank, I'm sorry. It just struck me again that I believe we may have been wrong about Laura's friend," she said enigmatically, and Hank raised an eyebrow in question.

"Oh? How so?" Storm passed a hand through the steam rising from her coffee, tendrils of it clinging to her wake, and shrugged.

"It's just a feeling. He's here, you know. Talking to Charles." Hank's eyebrows shot up so far he almost felt them merge with his hairline.

"Charles agreed to this? He can't be seriously considering putting the boy on probation!" he blustered, and Storm raised a hand and placed it on his arm, speaking calmly.

"Charles and I both agree that all we really know of him is that Laura seems to like him, and in all honesty Hank, how many people does Laura choose to share a bond with?"

"Not many," Hank said grudgingly,

"But I don't see why that makes him in any way suited to our way of life. Ororo, the boy doesn't care at all for the rules of this house, he's roundly hated by everyone else here – especially Logan – and as far as I can tell we know next to nothing else about him!" Storm nodded, considering his opinion.

"I agree; we don't. But isn't the whole point of us being here to promote the idea of second chances? The other children weren't exactly keen to welcome Laura when she first arrived here, and Rogue hasn't always been made to feel at home either..." Hank took her hand and peered at her curiously.

"Ororo, there is something else you are basing all this on, I'm sure of it. I thoroughly agree that we are here to help everyone, but how can you be so sure that this one even wants to be helped? Tabitha left us because she felt suffocated after the freedom she was used to, Evan..." She looked at him steadily.

"Evan left us because he felt compelled to, and his help has ensured that the Morlocks have opened themselves to us so that we can help them, too. Torpid would never have come to us if it wasn't for Evan's prompting, and I'm almost certain he had a hand in convincing Dorian that the Institute was the right choice for him. I have accepted that Evan is happy where he is, now," she said softly, and he nodded.

"I know. I'm sorry, we just all... we all miss him," he said with a smile, and she returned it.

"Evan may have found happiness elsewhere, but we must still be open towards those who reach out to us, Hank. If we refuse the ones who have nowhere else to go, then how can we stand by our own beliefs that everyone deserves to be allowed a hearing? This boy may only be here because of Laura, but in all fairness, isn't it to his credit that he's even trying?" Hank sighed heavily.

"I suppose so. I'm afraid I'm just having trouble seeing him as anything other than the bane of Logan's existence," he said ruefully, then as if suddenly considering it,

"You can't think Logan will agree to this?" Ororo's face set into lines of determined certainty.

"If Laura wants it to work, Logan will have very little choice in the matter. After all, you can see how he's been forced to accept Remy," she said coolly, and Hank grinned.

"I never saw two young people better suited to one another. I think even Logan has to admit that to himself!" Ororo's smile was almost devious.

"Oh, he has..."

_

* * *

_

Remy was dreaming again. He hadn't dreamt in such a long time, it felt less like dreaming and more like a slow death, the grey layers of his drugged subconscious shifting and blurring together to form pictures that then folded and became other things again. He dimly recalled tales of some light or other that signified the end and which one was supposed to drift towards at the very end, but there wasn't one and he felt chilled and alone because no one was watching him struggle towards something that didn't exist.

Watching? Was someone supposed to be watching? It was all so unclear. His chest hurt and his eyes hurt, but he couldn't open them, or even lift his hand to rub them, and he tried to speak instead, but couldn't hear anything.

"... you can't hear me, but they're listening and Ah just – Ah jus' need to tell you before we get there and Ah have t' give you up again, and – Ah... This isn't _fair_..."

He heard her, though. _Her_... He heard _Rogue_. But she wasn't here, was she? He was just dreaming again, just dreaming. She was never coming back. Why would she? He wasn't something a girl like her would want to go back to anyway... But she was right, even if she wasn't real. Nothing was fair anymore.

"Ah'm sorry Ah didn' listen to ya. Ah'm sorry Ah'm such a coward. An' Ah'm sorry Ah can' keep you... Hell, Ah don' even know which one of us deserves that apology! Ah jus' wan' you t' know you're wrong... You're jus' the kinda Prince Charmin' Ah always wan'ed. Ah'm the one who's not good enough for you... You deserve someone who can be ev'rythang to ya an' Ah'm jus' not that girl..."

He wanted to tell her just how wrong she was, that she was already everything to him, and more, but he just didn't have the strength to fight the overwhelming fatigue that washed over him, crushing his willpower to nothing as he gave up and let it take him...

_

* * *

_

She saw him sigh in the artificial slumber, his face drawn as she spoke, her voice below a whisper, knowing neither Logan nor Laura would interfere or listen in on her confessions but needing her words to be for him only.

"Ah love you, Remy LeBeau. Ah never wan'ed t' love ya, but you made me. It's really all your fault, y' know... Ah take it back. It's mah faul' we're lahke this... Ah'm jus' not... Ah can' trust you... Ah wan' to, _so_ _much_, but... Ah guess Ah don' trust mahself, really. Ah mean, what kinda girlfriend would Ah be anyway? Ah'm not a display piece kinda gal, an' Ah'm not gonna be a great housewahfe... Hank says Ah maght not even be able ta _have_ kids... An' when you're well again, Ah won' even be able t' touch you... It's not fair... But Ah do love ya, Remy. Ah jus' wish Ah could tell ya..."

She could almost feel her heart breaking completely as her fingers gently stroked his hair out of his eyes, wishing that she could have just let him kiss her that night, let him tell her whatever he wanted to and believed it without questioning herself, without being so afraid. But it was true. What could she give him that he couldn't have with someone else? She didn't think he entertained ideas of a future with a wife and children just yet, didn't think he was done being young and free just yet, but when he did? When he finally grew up and started looking for the woman he wanted to spend his life with, what then? She couldn't give him any kind of future. She didn't have any kind of future...

_

* * *

_

The warning look Logan gave her as they flew over the bayou was enough to stop her from leaping out of her seat and running down to shake Rogue back to sanity, but she didn't find it inappropriate to express her disapproval.

"She's not going to tell him," she hissed at her father, and he sighed.

"She will, kid. You just hang tight and don' say a word, ya hear?"

As he brought them into a steep descent she bit her tongue on purpose and crossed her arms, trying to focus on the sound of their slipstream instead of her sister's words. Rogue had one thing right. Life wasn't fair. But if she wasn't going to tell Remy then Laura damn sure was.

_

* * *

_

She'd been out on the porch all day, waiting. Ever since that Howlett fella called her up and told her they were bringing back her baby she'd been pacing holes in the floor, and nothing Jean-Luc could say could dissuade her that the X-Men had done wrong by her Remy. Henri had been banished from her sight after a particularly insensitive comment about how he always pulled through and they were likely just sending him back because they were tired of having to doublecheck the locks on all the girls' doors at night. She didn't need to hear that sort of frivolous talk when he could be coming back worse off than he'd left.

"Mattie. Come on inside, y' done enough waitin' 'round t'day. He'll be home soon an' then y' can do y' fussin'," Mercy called from the door, but Mattie just shook her head and folded her hands in her lap, eyes on the sky.

"_Non_. He'll be comin' any minute now. _Je sais, ma fille, je sais_..." she replied, settling herself into the old rocker she'd installed herself in. Mercy just threw her hands up and retired inside, but Mattie kept her steely gaze right where it was. If they were bringing him back damaged she was bringing the heat.

_

* * *

_

They were landing before she knew what was going on, and Laura was suddenly by her side with a syringe, giving Remy a counter-shot to whatever they'd given him at the start of their journey. Within seconds he was opening his eyes, but she averted hers and stood as Laura helped him up and asked him a few cursory questions regarding the functionality of his limbs and whether he felt awake. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to have to see him leave her. Logan's hand on her shoulder, however, put an abrupt end to her dream of staying in the jet where she would be free from drawn out goodbyes.

"Come on now girly. You've got a responsibility here," he said gruffly, steering the unwilling Rogue out the same way Laura had just steered the wobbly Remy.

"Logan, please don' – Ah can' do this – " she protested, but he just shook his head and put his arm around her shoulders, forcing her to comply. As they walked down the steps, the comparitively heavy, oppressive heat of the bayou after the sub-zero winter temperatures she'd left behind at home hit her like a ton of bricks and she felt a wave of nostalgic longing for the southern climes of her youth. She gave Logan a hunted, pleading look, but he kept his gaze firmly on the figures of Remy and Laura approaching the house ahead, and she realised he wasn't going to let up on her this time. He was going to make her face this like an adult. She didn't think she'd ever hated anyone more than him at this moment.

There was a wet, warm smell in the air around them as they drew nearer to the large house beyond the last of the low-growing trees, and she recognised it from the few times Remy had worn his coat around her. The same scent clung to the worn old leather of the garment and she felt an odd envy that he could remain so close to his true home even when he wasn't wanted there, as though the bayou was a part of him in a way that her own home town had never been to her. Ahead, she saw someone rise from a chair on the porch, and she saw Laura grip Remy's arm more firmly as they drew level with the house.

"That's his Aunt... Logan... This isn' raght," she said softly, and her father figure grunted.

"Firs' sensible thing you've said all day Stripes."

_

* * *

_

She saw them land, saw a petite girl approach with a supportive arm around her Remy, and behind them the Southern Belle with the white bangs who had pleaded Remy's case to the X-Men, the Rogue that Remy had told her about. Mattie was not a stupid woman, and being the observant person that she was she noticed two things wrong with this picture. The first being that her Remy looked just as bad as when he'd left her, if able to walk on his own after a fashion, and the second being that that Rogue girly looked mighty down for the occasion and the arm her daddy had around her didn't look so much supportive as preventive, s in preventing her from turning tail and running along back to that jet of theirs. Being who she was, Mattie LeBeau decided something has transpired that she ought to have been informed about. And so when the girl and her Remy were close enough, she rose to go and greet them with narrowed eyes and a tongue ready to do some lashing.

_

* * *

_

Laura held Remy up by the arm as his Aunt approached them, her mouth set in a thin line that boded ill for them all, and she was about to say something to diffuse the situation when Tante Mattie beat her right to it.

"**Remy Etienne LeBeau!** What in de worl' y' doin' comin' back 'ere in dis state? I better not be hearin' notin' bad abou' your stay dere boy – y' still plenty young enough f' y' _Tante_ t' be enforcin' some discipline y' hear!" she threatened, finger raised with intent to accuse. Laura took an instant liking to this woman, just as Logan had said she would. Here was a military soul she could relate to!"_Ce n'est pas ma faute, je suis innocent_..." Remy mumbled, looking down at his boots, and his Aunt made a disbelieving noise and glared past him at Logan and Rogue who stood awaiting her judgement just behind them.

"_À qui la faute alors? _Dis y' doin', bringin' back _mon bébé précieux_ like dis?" she demanded, and Laura could almost feel Logan cringe.

"Hold up there now, Mattie, we did what we could for your boy here – there were complications – " he began, but she held up a hand and Logan wisely stopped talking.

"_Pour autant que je puisse en juger,_ y' brough' him back jus' as bad as he was before y' ever came down here t' begin wit'! Min' tellin' me how dat comes under de headin' o' **complications?**"

"_Tatan_... 's not deir faul'... _Je suis desolé_..." Remy attempted, but she silenced him with another of those formidable glares and gestured for Logan to defend himself.

"Look, we never guaranteed anythin' – we said we migh' be able t' help the boy an' we've given it our best shot, y' can't blame us for not bein' able t' fix him!" By the look in Tante Mattie's eye she disagreed with that on a deep, personal level.

"Y' better damn well believe I can blame y' f' not deliverin' on y' word, Logan. Unless y' got a better reason f' lettin' him come back home lookin' like dat, I ain' hearin' y' excuses!"

"Please don' do dis," Remy pleaded, and Laura took a second to admire his balls for trying to appease the human tornado that was his Aunt Mattie. Apparently, the pressure had finally become too much, though.

"It's mah faul', alragh'?! It was meh!" Rogue yelled, voice breaking, and Laura and Remy turned as one to look at her. The Southern Gothic was crying, huge tears rolling down her face as she addressed Remy's Aunt, who took a few steps forward and crossed her arms.

"I tink y' better come on inside wit' me, petite," Mattie said firmly, and the weeping, cowed Rogue let herself be taken by the arm and led into the house by the other woman. The porch door slamming behind them broke the shocked silence that had descended over the rest of the party, and Laura let go of Remy who promptly slumped down on a handy porch step, head in his hands.

"You're right Logan, she's good," she remarked, ignoring the stream of mingled French and English expletives that escaped through the miserable Cajun's fingers.

_

* * *

_

With a cup of sweet tea in front of her and seated in a kitchen that was so inherently Southern she could almost picture a child-Remy sitting on the counter eating cookies while the Cajun firecracker masquerading as his Aunt made the gumbo, Rogue's tears fell with renewed purpose. This was what she wanted, to be the one looking through the pretty lace curtains while she made his favourite meal and waited for him to stroll in off the bayou and kiss her hello after a hard day's work. She looked up in surprise when Mattie laid an embroidred hanky in front of her and remarked,

"Dry dem tears, _cherie_, I seen enough _belle filles_ cryin' over m' Remy." Dabbing delicately at her eyes and trying not to smudge black makeup all over the pretty cloth, she looked up at the warm, sympathetic eyes of Mattie LeBeau and almost went into fresh floods.

"Why are ya bein' so nahce t' meh?" she asked thickly, feeling stupid for being probably the umpteenth girl to sit in Mattie's perfect kitchen crying over her perfect Remy. The Cajun woman just smiled at her.

"Honey, I seen a lot o' girls wit' m' boy dere, an' I seen a lot o' tears shed f' him. Y' de only _fille_ I ever met dat could make him cry too."

"What..? Ah don' – " Mattie held up a hand and she piped down, figuring she might as well hear whatever the older woman had to say even if it sounded wildly improbable.

"When he came home las' time after all dis business wit' Jean-Luc, I knew dere was sometin' up, an' his _pere_ kep' askin' all dese questions abou' ot'er mutants like himself, wantin' him t' go an' ask dem t' take him in. He mentioned y'. Remy said he'd rat'er die dan let y' get mixed up in all dis, de fam'ly business. Dey had a big figh'..."

Rogue could imagine as much. She'd heard the exchange between Remy and his father, Jean-Luc asking if she could 'do all of that with justa touch of her hand' and Remy telling him to leave it alone. It seemed feasible that he would have kept on at the subject even though his son wasn't amenable to the idea of using the X-Men for any further personal gain. Mattie smiled at her, put a hand on her gloved one reassuringly.

"_Cherie_... _mon bébé, _he maybe not de bes' gamble f' de long run – I can admit dat, I know him – but de boy wouldn' stop talkin' about de _plus belle Rogue_ once I got him t' tell _moi_ abou' y'... Dat means sometin'. Now y' tell Tante Mattie straigh' – did m' Remy do sometin' bad t' y' because he weren' tinkin'?" She couldn't avoid the Cajun woman's eyes, and she had to nod agreement. Mattie was talking to her as though this was some kind of diplomatic meeting between rival entities trying to work out some form of collaboration, with just the right amount of motherly sympathy and derision for her child's behavioural anomalies. She couldn't keep anything from this woman. One had to wonder how Remy's values had gotten so intensely screwed with this person in his life...

_

* * *

_

Remy was a wreck. Logan had gone off to one side to have a cigar to himself leaving Laura to observe with great interest the complete breakdown of Remy Etienne LeBeau. Laura had seen many a person experience many an emotion in her time since the destruction of HYDRA and coming to live at the Institute, but never before had she seen misery and hopelessness this profound before. At one point he made a truly horrible groaning noise that prompted her to ask whether he was alright for fear he might actually be dying, but he ignored her and kept on breathing so she was kept in suspense until Logan tired of his one on one time with the cigar and joined them once more.

"They' been in there an awfully long time..." he said apprehensively, and Laura nodded.

"I know. Almost an hour. I am restless. I want to go home," she said, not bothering to curb the sharpness in her tone.

"Ain't nobody goin' anywhere until Stripes comes out and we have a final verdict from that – "

"Ah wouldn' finish that thought, Daddy," Rogue said from the door, and they turned as one to see Mattie and Rogue standing on the porch, the older woman's arm around the younger girl's shoulders, a sparkle in her eye that made Laura almost hopeful for a second. Remy got to his feet and stood there looking like he might make a run for it. Laura readied herself to pursue him if he decided to make that call.

"Now, dis 'ere _petite femme_'s been tellin' _moi_ some int'restin' tings," Mattie said, then looked sharply at Remy.

"Remy! D' y'love dis _fille?_" Remy's face was an interesting study in shock, and Laura moved to one side to see it better.

"I – _oui, Rogue, je t'aime, parbleu_, I love y'," he blurted out, and Mattie's face glowed with triumphant pleasure.

"_Je sais_," she said simply, then let go of Rogue and kissed the younger girl's cheek, drawing back to say,

"Y' know, I tink' y' de only one besides me he ain' never been able t' lie t', _cherie_. Go on." Rogue's eyes shone as she hugged the Cajun woman and then she abruptly threw herself at Remy who caught her just barely, staggering under the sudden copious armfuls of Southern Belle, and there, in front of her father and his Aunt, Rogue kissed Remy the way Laura had been waiting for. Just like in the fairy tales.

_

* * *

_

She had told Mattie everything, all her fears, about her powers and how they might interfere with their happiness even if things did work out, everything she wished she could have because she _loved_ him, and when the Cajun woman had looked at her with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, she had been confused. Until she spoke.

"_Cherie_, I been wantin' t' hear y' say all dat since de momen' I met y'," the other woman had told her, sounding more than a little emotional despite her smiles.

"I know de boy loves y' too, an' let me tell y', he ain' never loved dis way before – dere are certain tings a _tante_ knows abou' her baby. Now, if he admits it, would y' take him off m' hands for _moi?_" She hadn't been able to answer, certain that he'd never say it out loud even if he did love her too, and doubly certain that she wouldn't have the courage to accept him even if he admitted it when pressed, but on that porch with his aunt's arm around her, watching the way his beautiful eyes widened in shock and honesty when she asked him, hearing the way he said her name, and the way the admission of love tore from his throat as though he had been holding it in for so long it was almost painful to part with, she just couldn't refuse herself any longer.

Throwing herself into his arms she was afraid he might buckle and topple over, but he seemed to summon a hidden reserve solely for the purpose of kissing her soundly to seal the deal – or was she kissing him? It didn't matter, she was in his arms, and they were kissing each other just – like – a – goddamn – fairytale – and it was _perfect_, and it was –

"Thank you Rogue! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" the addition of what had to be Laura's hug to the mix made her look up from the heady combination of Remy's kiss and their newly admitted love for one another as she heard her sister – _thanking_ her for being in love?

"Alright, break it up, kids, break it up – " Logan said harshly, pulling an exuberant Laura off the happy couple and getting up close and eye-to-beady-father-eye with Remy.

"Listen here, bub, your version of lovin' my little girl better be the one that involves stickin' around an' doin' right by her or I swear I'm 'a finally have that barbecue Cajun-style I' been wantin' ta throw since I met y'," he threatened in a low growl, and Rogue clung to Remy's collar for dear life while Remy gulped and said very quickly,

"Don' worry, Remy learnt his lesson – I ain' goin' nowhere 'less ma chere's goin' too – 'm not lettin' her get away dis time..." he trailed off, and she in turn fell into his eyes again as they forgot Logan's angry presence, until Mattie cleared her throat.

"Remy, y' listen up now boy, 'cause I ain' tellin' y' twice. Rogue's got ways o' lettin' me know if y' do wrong by her, an' I wan' t' hear notin' but good reports. We clear?" Remy's attention snapped onto his Aunt as he nodded, eyes wide and sincere.

"_Je promesse, tatan, Remy promesse_," he said, sounding almost frightened that he might not be believed and holding Rogue rather closer to him than might be perceived as necessary. Mattie nodded curtly and fixed Logan with a serious look.

"Y' take care o' my Rogue now Logan. She's a good girl dat one an' Remy be lucky t' have her," she said, and Rogue thought she heard a slight hint of parental appreciation pass from the Cajun to the Canadian. Logan grunted, grinning and pulling the beaming Laura in with one arm as he replied,

"Don' I know it. I'm a lucky man." Rogue would have paid more attention to Mattie's reply that seemed to be more parental aprreciation by way of courtesy directed at Laura, who was emulating the sun and smiling fit to burst, but Remy dipped his head towards her ear at that moment and whispered,

"Not as lucky as me..." and it became difficult to pay attention to anything beyond the sound of his voice and thefeel of him holding her like that, and –

"Rogue! Remy! We're going home!" Laura tugged at Remy's arm and dislodged it from around Rogue, who frowned a little until she fully heard the words her sister had said.

"Are ya ready t' come home, Cajun?" she said softly, looking back quickly at Logan and Mattie who were exchanging goodbyes. Mattie winked at Rogue and she had to smile before looking back into Remy's glowing eyes.

"_Chere_, 'm home wherever y' are... Lead de way," he said simply, kissing her briefly before putting his arm firmly around her waist and letting her rest her head against his shoulder, walking back to the jet in perfect time.


	12. Part 12

**DISCLAIMER: ****If I owned any of this I would be richer than Midas. I'm bankrupted and it isn't even the end of the first bank day of the month. You do the math.**

_I am not going to say thank you to anyone specific today. I am going to thank you all. Every last one of you who has read and liked this, and every last one of you who has let me know just how much this story means to you and why. This story is for you, this update is for you, and even though this is the end of Who Knew, I am going to make you all an offer._

_I am not quite ready to part with Who Knew so I am giving you all a chance to send me a request for a post-Who Knew WK-verse fic – a oneshot wherein the couple of your choice (it has to be one featured in the fic) in the setting of your choice can live out the future of the WK-verse in glorious verbiose screen-time. In case that wsn't clear; send me a request asking me to write a oneshot using the WK couple of your choosing in the setting of your choosing, a rough idea of what you want to go down, and a genre – example could be __**Rogue and Remy, beach, summer following WK-happenings, official wedding, romance**__. I will not write any break-ups of the WK-couples to facilitate any wishes for them to go forth and find others to get it on with. I will not indulge in character death. I will not write anything wherein any characters change the way they are completely to facilitate some other notion of who they should be. All characters and couples will be as they are in WK. You are simply getting to request future adventures in one-shot form._

_I will only be taking about two or three of these, and I will be picking them randomly from the requests I get – all other requests will be stored and I will contact the askers to discuss possible one-shots especially for them if they feel very strongly about their ideas and really want me to write them out. I am, as always, open to all of your input. Lurkers who do not reply to this update with a review will not be eligible for requests – I have to protect both my free time and my faithful reviewers because with a story that has gone on as long as WK and has evolved the way it has, the verse deserves to be treated right by those who have been following it closest since it's very first steps (or even those who came in in the middle, fell in love, and have been with us ever since). I am not trying to make anyone feel bad or piss anyone off here, this is purely to ensure that I do not receive gratuitous requests and to protect the WK-verse, because it is my baby, and I am a fierce momma, damn it XD_

_Lastly, to everyone who is as in love with this world as I admit to being, I hope that love stays as true as that of the couples we have seen grow and flourish here, and I hope that even though this is the end of WK, you will remember it fondly, perhaps come back to it every once in a while and have a giggle, and that you will consider your requests, if you have one or want to send one in, well._

_I have enjoyed this just as much as all of you, and I am sad to let this go, but this is the end, and bar the requests, WK will stand alone from here on in. I send my love and my giant foam-hand salutes to you all, and hope that you will holla back and let me know if you cried or not, and if you did, whether or not it was because you'll miss it as much as me._

_Namarie,_

_~Valkyrien~_

_

* * *

_

_**Who Knew?**_

_Part 12_

Laura was apparenly busy texting everyone under the sun the happy news that Rogue and Remy were now a couple – texting being a habit of youth that she had quickly picked up on as a great way to share important (and less important) news with everyone as quickly as possible – and so Logan was free to pilot the jet without any disturbances from that particular front if he ignored the frenzied clicking noises coming from Laura's phone. He adjusted his rear view mirror impatiently to avoid having to watch his Stripes gaze into the Cajun's eyes all gooey-like – the mirror being an idea of his to keep an eye on the kids while flying to and from places without having to break his neck to yell at them all the time – and instead he focused on the days' achievements so far.

He had honestly never hoped to see the day where his Rogue would find some boy to get all soppy over. Sure, he had lied to Ororo a billion times about hoping that she'd find someone someday but now that the time had come he realised that letting Rogue go emotionally to allow her that freedom was far more painful than all the stress he put himself through trying to convince Laura to stay far, far away from the blondes of this world. It hurt to have to let his little girl venture out with her heart on her sleeve and with no father to keep it safe for her despite her wishes, because deep down he didn't mind admitting to himself that he was only protecting them from the realities of life because he didn't want them to have to go through anything he'd already tried and found to be painful and unfair. As long as he never had to admit that to Ororo, all would be well.

"Daddy? _Dad_, there's a call coming in for you," Laura said loudly, interrupting his thoughts of quietly disposing of the Cajun somewhere over New York and claiming he just accidentally brushed the ejector switch.

"Call? Fine, fine, sure," he grumbled, pressing down the communications button and adjusting the mic.

"You're on the air, Chuck. Let's hear it." There was a burst of white noise and then an apologetic voice said,

"Oh, it's not Charles, Logan, it's Hank, I – " another crackle,

"Oh my word, this is really not my forte," Hank mumbled on the other end, and Laura giggled.

"Is that Laura? How did things go? Was the operation successful?" Hank asked eagerly, and Laura leant in and said clearly,

"Everything's fine, Hank, it worked, we're all coming home!"

"Oh my stars and garters where will we put them all? We just haven't the room to – Logan? Logan, there's something you should know before you come home, so you can prepare yourself – I promised Charles I'd let you know, he's downstairs doing the preliminary introductions – " yet another burst of white noise assaulted Logan's earways and he frowned at the dashboard as though it were doing him a personal wrong.

"Doing the what? Hank what the hell are you – " the light on the communications board switched off and Logan adjusted some knobs forcefully.

"God damn it! What was he goin' on about? Laura, call up Half-Pint on that thing and tell her to put Hank on, will ya?" he snapped, and Laura's fingers flew over her phone's keys.

"There's no reception. Must be a glitch somewhere. It's okay, we'll find out when we get home, it's probably not that important," she said with a shrug, her pleasure over Rogue's life finally going the right way seemingly overpowering her desire to know more about the state of the rest of the world. Logan rolled his eyes and gripped his controls harder.

"Damn it all to hell, why'd I have ta go an' have _girls_, nothin' but aggravation an' sleepless nights – an' would'ya look at that damn windshield now didn' I tell Iceman ta get that cleaned off before we left last night, I _swear_ I oughtta – " Laura settled into her seat in a catlike position and looked at the clouds, tuning out her father's angry mutterings.

_

* * *

_

Kitty Pryde was not a patient woman. She was highly strung and prone to fits of intense emotion. Lance Alvers, her soon-to-be husband, could attest to this fact. So the petite brunette's bouncing all over the kitchen in various stages of righteous indignation and Disney-ending adoration was small potatoes for the fearless leader of the Brotherhood. It was when she started crying for the fourth time that he decided to stick his nose in where it really ought to belong after four years of dating and an engagement.

"Kitten, don't you think you're overrreacting?" he asked diplomatically, proving once and for all that four years of dating and an engagement mean little in the grand scheme of things if the unfortunate fiancée sticks his foot in his mouth the moment he opens it. Kitty Pryde, though not unaccustomed to these behavioural faux pas', was having none of this.

"_Overreacting?!_" she wailed, poking his substantial chestal region with a pointy, business-minded finger. He winced appropriately.

"You think I'm _overreacting_ when my _best friend_ goes South and _totally_ finds true love while her sister's player boyfriend moves into _our_ _home_, all on the _same_ day? How is _that_ overreacting?!" Rubbing the sore spot on his ribcage that had borne the brunt of the angry digit's wrath, he backtracked.

"I'm not saying that Kitten, not at all, I'm just saying _maybe_ this isn't a time for tears after all – I mean, you've been waiting for this day for years, you've even had your Rogue-calendar to follow her lovelife – "

"It's what a best friend _does!_" she defended herself, and he took the free win, nodding eagerly.

" – my point _exactly_, right, you've been looking out for her all this time, waiting for this day to come and it's _finally_ here! Doesn't that merit a celebration?" he waited for two seconds with bated breath and a hopelessly brave smile of encouragement on his face while Kitty weighed this new argument.

"Oh, Lance, you're like, _so right_, I just can't help feeling bad about Laura now – I mean, now we're going to have to support _her_ through this difficult time, and – oh, that totally reminds me I need to update my calendar, thanks honey – but like, we're going to have to _totally_ be there for her now and what if Rogue and Remy don't get the attention they deserve because of Laura's problems? That would like, be a _total_ disaster! I just don't see how we're going to have like, _time_ for everything!" she cried, sniffling so adorably that he could almost ignore the fact that his fiancée was a howling banshee with manic depressive notions of coupledom needing to fit a schedule like prime-time TV-shows. He took the manly high road and folded her into capably muscly arms.

"Its okay Kitten, we'll get through this together. I'm sure Rogue and Remy will understand, they're both reasonable people and I know we can work something out, don't you worry," he said soothingly, rewarded by the huge, watery blue eyes she turned on him in a smile as she hugged him back, her little arms barely able to reach around his toned bulk.

"You like, always know just what to say... I'm so glad I have you..." she sniffed, blinking at him, and he cuddled her and sighed with relief.

"I'm the luckiest man in the world," he affirmed, knowing that that was what she wanted to hear, and praying to any God willing to listen and cut him some karmic slack that everything would work out the way Kitty wanted it to. And if not he just hoped the same God would have mercy on them all.

_

* * *

_

Being brought up a normal happy child and then kicked out and forced to fend for oneself would leave a rift in _anyone's_ sense of how much togetherness is enough, but being then used and abused by two seperate secret organisations as the equivalent of a semi-human meat grinder-cum-tracking device for whatever person happened to rub said organisations the wrong way _definitely_ made for anti-social, non-togetherness-y lack of communal spirit – whatever the hell _that_ was supposed to be.

In short, there was nothing – and he felt he was qualified to make such a vastly megalomaniacal statement – _nothing_ on the face of the earth or any other inhabited planet anywhere that was as bad as the first day in an educational institution. That said institution doubled as home and playground for a substantial group of youths and a small handful of children and adults made it a _thousand_ _times_ worse. The list of things annoying under Xavier's roof was endless and just kept getting longer. Example:

Katherine Pryde's facial expression when told that _yes_, he was staying, and _no_, Logan would not be getting a say in the matter;

Katherine Pryde's following noise of disapproval and malcontent – so extremely highpitched he thought he felt his eardrum give a little – and her subsequent grabbing of Lance Alvers and storming into the kitchen – which was actually a relief but remains list-worthy because she only left because she was told he _wouldn't_ be leaving;

Amara&Bobby's – not seperate entities as they seemed to actually _be_ one and the same person and should be treated as such in case of potential future murder charges – jointly terrified swoon when told that _yes_, he'd be staying, and _no_, they couldn't just keep him outside and feed him occasionally the way Laura had – they seemed to think – been doing up until this point in time;

Amara&Bobby's apparent lack of understanding that his hearing was twice as acute as your average household cat's and that he had indeed heard _every_ _word_ of their previous queries despite them having been whispering to the Professor about half a room away;

Amara&Bobby's halfarsed attempt at mumbling a greeting when elbowed sharply in their joint backs by Ororo Munroe;

Torpid's extremely humiliating greeting and celebration of his decision to stay which consisted of her grabbing hold of his leg – the only part of him she could easily reach without requiring something to stand on – and refusing to let go until Ororo Munroe gently pulled her off and told her _'We don't hug people like that sweetie, it's rude when you don't know them very well'_ – the only rule he'd heard so far that he agreed with;

Ray Crisp, Roberto Da Costa, Alex Masters-Summers and Samuel Guthrie's inane and aggravating questions regarding his past ( _'Dude, were you like, __**born**__ that way?'_), his involvement with Laura ( _'C'mon, you can totally tell us – you're hittin' it, right?'_), and whether or not he had actually ever eaten anyone ( _'Because we heard this rumour...'_);

The sheer fact that no one bothered to come and save him from said stupid questions, forcing him to tell them three or four very nasty things – all true – which prompted the involvement of the incredibly obnoxious Scott Summers who managed to say very loudly that it wasn't permitted within mansion limits to use words or innuendo that might either be rude or imply a threat to someone's life, and that under no circumstances was it permitted to mention grisly murders in front of minors;

Scott Summers – even before he opened his mouth and started writing his name on the list for ever to stay, the guy was a tool with stupid glasses and a weird haircut;

Jean Grey, who apparently took offence when he calmly told Scott Summers that sweater-wearing boy scouts with pink-eye didn't _really_ figure on his list of people-to-listen-to but did always somehow end up on his people-to-maim-horribly-the-next-time-I-snap-and-come-back-sans-morals list, and called him a few choice if outdated things all of which had to do with either alleged crimes against Laura or alleged moral defects – _not_ all of which he was guilty of;

Jamie Madrox, who actually told him to keep his hands off Torpid – as if he would really honestly _harm_ the child?!;

And finally, the icing on the cake, the adult's warning that he was to be left alone and not prompted to join in on anything or take part in anything unless he made it clear that he wanted to – as if the final nail in his anti-socially branded freak-coffin just needed that _extra little tweaking_ before they lowered it into the grave.

If they only knew how close he likely was to said grave, they might have felt bad about all of that, because from what Kitty Pryde had said about the results of the morning's mission and their departure time from down South, Laura would be home with Daddy and sissy-poo any minute now and she was just as likely to decapitate him and call it a day as she was to accept his decision to encroach on her family territory. Either her or her father would likely resort to violence, which was not usually a problem for him and wouldn't have been if he for once hadn't actually wanted to solve things without things ending bloodily. Xavier had been most insistent on that count. No bloodshed within mansion limits and nothing that might trace back to the Institute. One of the few rules he intended to actually work on obeying, not that anyone was likely to believe it of him.

He had finally managed to escape to the roof where he was chainsmoking and keeping one ear out for any approaching aircraft, and he wasn't lying if he admitted that he didn't intend to come down and attempt to be even the slightest bit social until Laura got back and gave her verdict on the whole him-staying deal. Xavier – for all his understanding and patience – _really_ hadn't grasped the reality of Laura's ultimate right of veto. Childhood trauma he certainly seemed to get, as well as murderous rages, uncontrollable, untreatable bloodlust and a disregard for anyone's opinion but one's own after years of slavery to the will of others, but the fact that Laura was judge, jury and executioner at the Institute and over him while he was anywhere near her, he just did not seem to understand. He could see why it would be hard to tell, given the fact that he obviously didn't know these people, didn't _want_ to, and they didn't know his and Laura's dynamic, but even he had to accede that Laura owned his arse when she was within a ten-mile radius of it and he was helpless to change that fact. Hell, he didn't even want to _think_ about what the ramifications would be if he attempted to rebel against _that_ nasty truth.

The fact was that there was little point in him getting too comfy where he was if she wasn't open to the idea of him being there, and for Xavier to insist anything to the contrary to be true was just pure naivete.

The growing pile of cigarettes in front of his perch on the spine of the roof should have been enough to let anyone know he was not up for any more socialising just now – as should the fact that he had climbed up to the goddamn _roof_ to escape them all – but clearly Kurt Wagner either didn't notice or didn't care. The annoying noise – and smell – of his teleporting cut through Kyle's senses like an air raid alarm in a kindergarten during naptime and he felt himself tense up even though he didn't move at all. Kurt Wagner, Xavier's former first-class bouncer, had not been present during the annoyances of earlier's social circus. Kyle half hoped he'd come to try and pitch him off the roof so that he could get rid of some of the aggression he'd been keeping a lid on downstairs, but sadly the furry blue demon just sat perched on the cast iron weathervane opposite him and looking at him oddly.

Damn it but he hated being stared at.

"Show's over blue boy," he snarled, flicking a spent butt in Kurt's general direction.

"You lot don't get any more freebies. From now on I'm making people pay to gawp." The otherwise mild blue-furred face twisted into a frown. He felt an opportunistic pang of remorse worm it's way through the barrier of bitter hatred but he didn't merit it and it fizzled out as quickly as it had made itself known.

"Calm down, man, I didn't know you were up here. Ze Professor told me you'd moved in when I got back an hour ago. I thought maybe you'd left or something – you weren't in your room when I went to welcome you," Kurt said, sounding rather offended. Kyle stared past him pointedly.

"Like I have somewhere else to be? I just came up here for a smoke. Anyway, it's not official yet," he said offhandedly, trying to ignore Kurt's sympathetic look.

He hated sympathy just as much as being stared at.

"Oh, I don't know, Jean's tantrum looked pretty official," Kurt said with a laugh, but the glare Kyle shot him cut him short.

"Too soon, huh? Okay," the German acrobat said quietly, then continued in a cheerier tone,

"So what are you doing up here? Let me guess – they were asking too many qvestions? They do zat, you just have to grin and distract zem!" Kyle shrugged.

"Something like that. Bet you get your fair share," he said gruffly, forced to admit that at the very least _he_ didn't have a tail – or blue fur. He had to respect the fact that the guy had probably had to live with that shit for at least as long as he'd had to live with his own mutation. If suddenly sprouting fangs and claws was a bitch to deal with, it was hard to imagine how much worse it must be to suddenly have blue fuzz all over you and a nifty tail. Kurt grinned, dazzlingly white fangs flashing. Kyle bit back a growl at the negative associations of the gesture and kept his face sulky and mostly impassive.

"Sure, all the time – but you know no one can resist the Fuzzy Man!" he said, doing a one-handed handstand with only the aid of the weathervane's one iron arm and his mutant propensity for awesome moves. For some reason, Kyle's pent-up anger flared at this statement.

"You don't really believe that," he said harshly, causing Kurt to flop onto the roof with a shocked look on the jovial blue face, pushing his hair out of the way with his tail and righting himself.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, brushing off his shirt and crossing his arms defensively.

"If you were really all that pleased about being the Cookie Monster's German cousin you wouldn't cover it up out there," he accused, jerking his head at the rest of the world. Kurt's face was almost comically confused.

"But – I have to – I don't want anyone seeing me like this, I got enough of zat as a kid when I didn't have my inducer!" he cried, clearly hurt, and Kyle acknowledged the odd thrill that always came with making someone else feel bad – it almost made up for the fact that he couldn't leave, go somewhere and drink, or hurt anyone physically. And then he heard what Kurt had _said_, and the glowy feeling of someone else feeling worse than him subsided considerably.

The only thing worse than sympathy was not being allowed to enjoy the little highs life threw you occasionally.

"As a kid? I see how that might suck," he admitted, and Kurt shrugged.

"I don't know – vhen you don't know anything else it's easy to get used to. My foster parents made sure I vas never around people who might not understand... I had a good childhood," he said with a nostalgic look in his eye. Kyle didn't even notice his hand curling into a fist, but he did feel his claws piercing his skin, an unconcious reminder that he couldn't just lose it. But it wasn't fair. It just. Wasn't. Fair.

The worst thing in the whole world was to have your own lows thrown back at you by someone who'd gone through something similar and come out of it better off than you.

"You mean you've looked like that your whole life?" he asked sharply, and Kurt nodded slowly, looking at the blood dripping from Kyle's hand, as though not quite understanding when things had taken such a wrong turn and wishing he could turn it around again. After all, when you share happy childhood memories, others are supposed to share theirs, right?

"Ja... As far as I know... My muzzer dropped me in a river by accident when I vas a baby and my foster parents found me and raised me..." he said hesitantly, looking half as though he expected to be mocked for the unlikely story. He certainly didn't appear to be expecting what actually happened next.

"You – they – and you were _definitely_ blue with the tail and the - ?" Kyle asked, as though he didn't believe a word of it, and Kurt nodded.

"Ja... I vas like zis as a child. My muzzer is blue too, in her real shape," Kurt said with authority, choosing to ignore the detail that he didn't really know much else about his mother, and Kyle got up, walked away a few steps and then said quietly,

"Right... That's... Okay. Good for you..." He heard Kurt approach him even though the oddly shaped feet were extremely stealthy, and he willed him not to try and touch him as he bit down hard and closed his eyes in an attempt to quell the insane desire to just _kill_ the furry mutant who'd managed to find bloody fucking _foster parents_ to love him even though he'd been born looking like some sort of hellishly cute puppy with a devil-tail and yellow eyes.

That Kurt's mother's losing him had been an accident he could accept – the woman was blue, a child like that wouldn't be such a big deal for her – but if the world was any kind of fair the baby would either have drowned, been lynched by some mob or other, or been locked up in a freak show immediately after being found. The fact that Kurt had not only survived being dropped into a fucking river but then somehow by the grace of whatever Gods had custody of Germany had driften into the waiting arms of the world's apparently two most open-minded people who actually _wanted_ him and raised him as their own made Kyle feel violently angry. But more alarmingly, it was _upsetting_.

Anger he could control – just about, anyway – but actual emotional pain on any level was a one-way street to the one thing he wanted to avoid while here – at least until he knew whether or not he could conceivably stay for any length of time. He couldn't really afford a breakdown at this point. That could wait until after she'd decided he wasn't fit to co-exist with anyone she actually gave a shit about. After all, he imagined that the way things had been going so far, that would likely be the kicker. And he knew it would hurt in the only way he hadn't been conditioned to deal with, and he knew that when it did, he shouldn't be anywhere near anyone who wasn't fully capable of saving their own ass.

Being made to feel anything deeper than hatred or rage was the reason for his 'lapses'. It sent him over the edge, and the sheer lack of control he had when that happened meant that when it did it wasn't something he could prevent or stop, just as feeling those things wasn't something he could process on a normal level, or even try to. He had explained his lapses to Xavier as interludes where whatever made him look like an animal took over and let him _become_ one, in the truest sense of the word. It had made him an unreliable soldier, a fascinating test subject, and these days it just made him unable to live with others, let alone himself. Xavier had suggested a form of acutely specialised schizophrenic dissociation, something he had developed as a child to protect himself from everything he had had to live through – the feral side of him shielding the human side from the harsher experiences to allow him to survive. But it wasn't like that at all.

He became aware of the fact that Kurt was asking him if he was okay, mumbled a distant,

"I'm fine. It's just been a long day. Think I need to clear my head a little," and heard Kurt's assurance that he'd tell the others not to go looking for him and then the ~_bamf_~ that signified his leaving. He wasn't sure if it was gratitude or disappointment that flooded through him now that he was without a victim, but whatever it was choked him as surely as the collars they'd put on him while in transit back in the old days, and he felt suddenly completely overwhelmed. He didn't even realise he was on his knees until he opened his eyes again and saw it, and even then he wasn't _really_ seeing it. The wounds of his past seemed to be bleeding right before him, past lapses both in judgement and in sanity crashing into his mind as he tried to wrench his thoughts away from how unfair it all was, how _wrong_ it all was –

And instead of focusing on the anger or the feeling of his physical wounds to bring him back he found himself focusing on the most unlikely of things. The desperate hope that she'd be home soon, no matter what her decision. And the sudden realisation that he needed her to overcome the pull of his other self, his deeper self, came as such an intense shock that everything else just... stopped...

_

* * *

_

The initial joy she had felt for Rogue had dissipated most alarmingly over the past half hour since Logan had announced that they were maybe fortyfive minutes away from home, and now that it was almost entirely gone it left in it's place a dead, cold fear of returning to it all where bfore she had been elated at the thought of finally getting to share that joy with all the others in Rogue's life who had wanted this for her. It was almost as though something at home was amiss and her deeper instincts were trying to force her away from it, let her know in advance. Hank's call had seemed so innocent at the time, but what if there was something beneath the usual flustered exterior in his voice that she hadn't picked up on, her happiness clouding her judgement of the situation?

Nothing at home could possibly have gone wrong – someone would have let them know no matter what communicative dead zone they were flying through. It was standard procedure to find other ways of getting in touch if the primary channels were somehow closed or unavailable. They had been in the air for quite some time after exiting the signalless area. A text would have come through, something, anything – they would have called back. Wouldn't they?

She curled herself into a ball in her seat and buried her face in her arms, concentrating on the stillness the way Charles had taught her to. Unbidden, a voice in her mind told her it was easier to let go and be taken along for the ride than try and fight it, and she shivered and cast about for something else to think about. Rogue and Remy were happy, everything was going to be okay, she'd go back home, find Kyle, and –

What if he'd gone?

She didn't like to admit it even to herself, but some of the things Rogue had said in her time about the blond feral were very, very true. Unfortunately, they were also completely defendable, and she _would_ defend them, if he hadn't made her promise not to _ever_ defend him to her family or friends. And, also unfortunately, she half understood why he didn't want them to know the reasons behind his shortcomings. He hadn't even told her for a good long while. And then he'd disappeared for the first time in their brief time together. She had been utterly terrified that he'd been taken back by his former masters to endure another lifetime of torture in the name of science – and when he _had_ finally come back, unwilling to tell her where he had been or if he was even alright, she had raged and threatened and acted much like Kitty or Wanda did when they had been worried seemingly over nothing and wanted an explanation. When he had caved and given it to her, she had been rather more stunned than shocked. It wasn't every day a wayward lover pleaded temporary insanity as a reason for having been AWOL, even she knew that.

She knew all about bloodlust and berserker rages, of course. HYDRA's conditioning had given her more than a few... hang-ups, in regard to other people and certain situations, but with the help of her family she was slowly coming to terms with that, and even she could always recall what she had done when the red haze cleared. So when Kyle had told her that his major defect as a mutant was temporary regression to an animalistic mindset that he couldn't control or break out of himself whenever he was put under certain strains, she hadn't really known how to deal with it. She had asked questions, trying to understand the details of it, and when he had told her that as far as he knew he had gotten it as a side effect from his original mutations and that it had not even been a by-product of genetic experimentation or mental blocks but just a cruel joke played on him by nature, it stopped bothering her completely.

To her mind, his lapses were nothing more or less upsetting than John's little voices and the depression they sometimes brought with them. The way she saw it, it didn't make Kyle any less of a person or any different than who she had seen him as to begin with, but she did understand that others wouldn't choose to take such a liberal view of it. After all, the mansion had it's fair share of those who would condemn John for his mental issues even though he never let them get in the way of anyone else's having a happy day, and to her that was just unfair. But while she didn't see Kyle any differently for knowing why he left her, the fact that he had to still hurt, as though a treacherous, jealous part of her demanded that he fight it and stay for her sake, even though she knew rationally that if he could, he would have learnt to a long time ago.

When she had asked Rogue whether it was okay to have someone leave you all the time without knowing where they were, she hadn't mentioned the 'what if it's because of something they just can't help?' and so her sister's words on that point hadn't really helped her. She had once asked Wanda how she lived with John's withdrawals from life when he was entering a bad period, and the Scarlet Witch had only been able to tell her that it was always forgivable if you knew that their leaving hurt them as much as it did you, but Laura had never asked Kyle whether it upset him to have to leave, or if it was just the reason he had to that caused his pain – because he did feel pain, whatever anyone else might believe. She had seen it. Sure, he played it down as though it meant nothing to him, but she was perceptive enough to tell when he was hurting more than he'd let on, and she knew that his explaining to her why he wasn't always around hurt him far more than all the times she'd skewered his vital organs for shits and giggles.

And so she couldn't help but always wonder, knowing how much he despised the side of him that took control, whether or not he would even come back again. He usually couldn't even tell her, and he certainly wasn't ever in a position to let her know he wasn't going to be there, so every time she had ever gone to see him and waited hours for nothing, she had felt a little colder inside wondering if he was alright wherever he was, and whether he wished he could have been there for her because he wanted to be there for her rather than because anything was better than being mindless and out of control for Gods knew how long until you woke up with no clue what you'd done...

The night of Rogue's breakdown, when she had gone outside to see him – mostly because she just wanted to see him, the fight had been unplanned – and Scott had broken up their little sortie, she thought he had been about to tell her, but she had been too angry, and too worried about Rogue to listen. Instead, she had threatened him with dire consequences if he didn't leave and stay gone until everything had worked itself out again. And now she was afraid that he would be gone for once because he _wanted_ to be gone, and not because he had no choice.

She should have listened, she knew that. If he just up and left, she'd have to go track him down and bring him back, and that wasn't how it was supposed to be. She wanted him to be there when she got home, wanted him to be there so that she could run and tell him, because suddenly it felt like her wonderfully successful mission wasn't so wonderful if she didn't tell him how well it all went. He wouldn't even have to pretend to care much, she just wanted to tell him... No. If he wasn't there when she got home, she'd just have to assume he'd left temporarily and that he'd be back, and that just meant she'd have time to prepare herself mentally for everything. If he didn't come back, she'd just find him and they'd work it out, whatever _it_ was. Because if he had been trying to tell her that he always came back for _her_ and not just because he had nothing better to do, then they could deal with everything else that might happen. She just needed to hear it.

She heard Logan tell her that they were going down and that they'd be home safe in a few minutes, but it was distant, her focus elsewhere entirely. If Rogue could get her man, then Laura damn sure could make Kyle Gibney admit that he stuck around for her sake, and if not... well, if not, there was always decapitation available as a last resort.

_

* * *

_

Torpid had been avoiding Jamie ever since Storm had taken her aside to let her know that Laura's Kyle would be staying with them indefinitely. She avoided Jamie at times for varying reasons. Sometimes he would be asking too long and too hard for her to remove her gloves and touch him to see if she would 'freeze' him – she avoided him then because it pained her to have to 'freeze' anyone she cared for, friends or family, and in his case he did not seem to fit into either category, and did not understand that her biggest fear was always that her 'frozen' victims wouldn't wake again. Sometimes he would be unable to understand that she wished to be alone for a while, and she would seek out Ilyana or one of the others and ask them to help her find the peace she was looking for. Sometimes, she would avoid him because he upset her, but that rarely ocurred. And sometimes she avoided him simply because she wanted the company of others and felt at times that it was impossible to really talk to anyone else when he was always there. But today – or at least right now – she was avoiding Jamie because Jamie had said something hurtful to their newest addition earlier, and she did not wish to hear the multiplier's excuses for this. So instead, she was looking for Kyle.

He had been given a room, but it was empty – very empty – and so she assumed he had gone somewhere else to be free of questions – something she could well understand. The window was open, however, and she shivered in the cold despite her heavy, oversized hoodie – actually one stolen from Laura's floor in an attempt to feel closer to her saddened friend while she wasn't there. Torpid was closer to Laura than most other people would consider plausible considering the fact that Torpid was mostly a part of the group of children the mansion housed – Ilyana, Dorian, partly Jamie as well – but she had bonded with Laura immediately after joining with the X-Men at Spyke's prompting simply because Laura was proficient in both the types of sign language Torpid knew and used to communicate. Laura had been her translator during her first few weeks where everyone else in the mansion had received a crash course in basic sign in order to make her an integrated part of the extended family that was the X-Men. Laura had also been the one who swayed Logan and Storm in their debating with the Professor regarding her schooling, understanding Torpid's fear of gatherings of people she did not know well after so long in the confined community of the Morlocks. Torpid was homeschooled as a direct result of Laura's intervention, and thankful for it. It was also Laura who had been sent with Berzerker to fetch her from Callisto and Evan – a sad parting for the little girl, but a happy meeting with the first person she had yet met who understood everything she 'spoke'.

She missed Laura, and she wished that the older girl would have been more open with her in regards to Kyle in the beginning, where Torpid had initially attempted to ask her about the rumours of her strange new friend and been told that he was 'not conversation material', something she had not at first understood. The rumours of how Kyle had interrupted a reconnaisance mission to literally land on top of a sniper behind a building with his sights trained on Laura, thus sparing her the trouble of healing a shot to the head, had spread like wildfire, as had the rumours that he had told Cyclops to get the f*** out of his face when he was talking to the _other_ pretty girl, something Torpid had tittered over.

She had been curious to meet Laura's Kyle, and a little jealous that her friend took to sneaking off during the day when she and Torpid were home alone together to meet him without taking Torpid along, but when she had asked Laura had simply said that she didn't want to get Torpid involved in anything bad, and so the little girl had begun to worry. Perhaps this Kyle was someone from Laura's past, come to upset her with memories from that awful time? Laura insisted that he wasn't when pressed, but Torpid couldn't help but be concerned all the same. And so when she finally did get to see Kyle it was late one night when she had been up to fetch a glass of milk in her pyjamas and had seen him vaulting off the banister, a flash of black and white, at the top of the balustrade to the hallway and run right past her, Logan in hot, snarling pursuit. An angry Laura had been racing after them, but had halted in the hallway to pick up Torpid and cuddle her like a teddy-bear, covertly crying into her froggy-jammies. Torpid hadn't minded the crying, the froggies were aquatic creatures, after all, but she had realised then that Laura had been hiding Kyle from everyone because her Daddy didn't like him, and after that, things only got worse.

Laura became belligerent and angry, openly admitting to having a relationship with Kyle, whom she sometimes brought home with her, prompting very loud scenes wherein Logan would accuse her of doing it on purpose to upset him when she knew the rules, she would accuse them all of robbing her of her freedom, and Kyle would stand around waiting to be evicted from the premises. When Torpid had finally met him _properly_, when Remy was hurt, she had been of the impression that Kyle had left given Laura's mood and his recent upsetting of the household, and since she had never really seen him up close before – Storm always removed the children when scenes were going down – she had been a little frightened to see him emerge from the trees at Laura's calling, ghostly silent even over the crunchy snow. She had been a little startled that he looked as normal as he did since she had heard that he was meant to be scary-looking – she had pictured someone green and lumpy – but he had very pretty blue eyes and angel-hair like the angels in Storm's living-room painting, and she hadn't been really afraid of him, although she was careful. He had done as Laura asked in carrying Remy, not something that was in keeping with what Torpid had heard about him, and she had been unable not to call him on being mean to Laura when alone with him, her upsettal over Remy making her bolder than she felt, and she had been surprised that he reacted to the accusation like any normal teenager would.

Afterwards, she had told Laura that her Kyle wasn't so scary, and Laura had just given her a hug and said, 'I know he isn't', something that puzzled Torpid as well. Laura had never said anything about Kyle, never defended him in her sorties with Logan or anyone else, merely asserting her right to her own choices. To Torpid's mind, she ought to have defended him and brought out examples of his good sides if she cared for him – as Torpid was almost certain that Kyle cared for her. He had looked worried when Remy had been injured – worried that she was as well. He had also reacted guiltily when she insisted he be nice to Laura, something she was sure would not have bothered him if he hadn't cared. She sort of wished she could find him to talk to him again, if he didn't mind.

It suddenly occurred to her that he could well be on the roof – an isolated place where he could easily hear them return if he so chose, and she left the room and walked towards the stairway that led to the hatch in the roof that the boys sometimes used when they needed to go up to clear the gutters and check the tiles. The stairs were narrow and dark, but she managed, and the hatch wasn't hard to open either. Casting about, she saw the glint of his hair in the gloomy light of the evening, and began picking her way towards him. He was kneeling, looking in a different direction, and she hoped that he could hear her approaching and would not be startled – with a little pinprick of sadness that she couldn't call out to let him know she was there, she stood a little way behind him and waited for him to acknowledge that she was there.

"You... you didn't say anything, and you're not very heavy," he said distantly after about a minute, then added,

"Little Madam, is it?" She found herself nodding even though he couldn't see her, and wondered why he didn't turn around when he knew that she couldn't speak to him without using her hands to show him the words.

"I'm sort of...a mess right now... No chance of you leaving is there?" She shook her head and stamped her foot in annoyance, and he sighed heavily.

"Great. I warned you though..." He stood up fluidly, scraping his hair back with one hand and wiping at something black streaking under his eyes with the back of the other. She took a step closer, and signed,

'_You have dirt on your face,'_ before pointing to her own to indicate where it was and then adding,

'_How did it get there?'_ He shook his head as though amused and then swiped at the black stuff again in vain.

"Never mind that. It'll come off. What are you doing up here? It's colder the higher up you get and you're wearing slippers," he observed, and she looked down at her bunny slippers, a little surprised that he would make a comment like that – almost as if he was worried that she might catch a cold or something, like Storm when she forgot her jacket.

'_I feel okay. I went to see you but your room was empty and the window was open. I thought maybe you were up here. Laura comes up here when she wants to be alone,'_ she signed, adding a smile to show him she understood that he might feel a little overwhelmed.

"I know," he said quietly, and then sat down on the edge of the roof and looked at her.

"You're Laura's friend. She talks about you sometimes..."

'_Nice things?'_ she asked, and he laughed.

"Everything I've heard, yes. Apparently that Jamie character thinks highly of you as well." Torpid made a face.

'_He was rude to you earlier, I was told! He is not supposed to say things like that – he's stupid sometimes. Me and Laura had a picnic up here one day to hide from him because he likes to follow me,'_ she signed, feeling her cheeks heating up a little, and Kyle smiled at her, a little sadly.

"Bet that was fun. I wouldn't worry about him following you – if he gives you any trouble you let Laura know. She'll sort him out," he assured her, and she giggled silently, and then remembered a question she'd been wanting to ask for a while.

'_Why do you understand me?'_ He looked away for a moment and then signed,

'_I had an accident once and I couldn't get it fixed until it was too late so it didn't heal right. I was mute for about half a year.'_ She took another few steps towards him, looking for marks on his throat where he might have been hurt once, but then recalled that he healed like Laura, and that there wouldn't be any.

'_You needed help to heal it? Laura doesn't,'_ she asked, brow furrowed, and he nodded.

"Sometimes. If we have an injury that just needs to close up, like a cut, then it doesn't need help, but big injuries sometimes need help. Laura had to fix her finger the other day to heal it, didn't she? That sort of thing," he said, and she noticed that he sounded jumpy and a little distant despite being perfectly civil to her, and she smiled privately.

'_You miss her, don't you?'_ she asked, and he glared at her, crossing his arms.

"_No!_ That's absurd. Why would I miss her? What do I look like, a girl?" Tentatively, she took the last two steps to stand in front of him, and put her hand on his arm before signing,

'_It's okay to miss her. I miss her too.'_ He didn't so much flinch as pull away deliberately, and she accepted it placidly. Sometimes she didn't like being touched either, especially after using her powers. Maybe he was like her and didn't like being touched when he wasn't happy.

"I don't miss people. People aren't permanent," he mumbled apologetically, then looked at her as though seeing her properly for the first time.

"I don't think I know how to be either."

Torpid gave him a hug before she even realised how sad she felt for him.

_

* * *

_

The sense of looming disaster filled everyone in the mansion as Hank verified that Logan, Laura, and the Southern lovebirds had returned and were currently parking the jet. With Kyle having disappeared and Kurt arriving downstairs briefly – before going to shower and blowdry – to announce that the new arrival was not to be searched for and to give the poor guy some space, noone knew quite how to bring up the subject of his having moved in to Laura when she got there. Just as noone was quite certain how to breach the subject of Rogue and Remy's relationship with them. Nevertheless, the majority of the mansion's populace was gathered in the living room, a nervous buzz of conversation filling the room as they waited for the inevitable awkwardness that would soon ensue. In the elevator on the way up to the ground level, Rogue and Remy were still in each other's arms, Rogue contentedly leaning into her new lover, who was supporting her by sheer will alone, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm his shaky defenses at any moment. Logan, who was Rogue's designated bag-holder and had the duffelbag with her change of clothes in it slung over his shoulder – in case she and Remy had wanted to stay in Louisiana, packed at Laura's insistence – had yet to say anything to them about their overwhelmingly sweet presence despite his lingering annoyance. Laura was standing next to him, facing the doors, face blank. There was a silence that was opressive only to the two people not currently in love with another occupant of the elevator, and which lasted until the second the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened a crack.

The two ferals stiffened at the same time, both testing the air subtly, and if ever anyone had needed proof that Laura was Logan's daughter, the curling of her mouth up across her left incisor was undeniably Logan's genes making themselves known.

"Laura..." Logan growled, and his daughter looked at him warily, poised on the balls of her feet.

"I don't know," she replied honestly, and he nodded once, curtly.

"Find him. You two!" he yelled sharply, snapping Rogue and Remy back to reality as Laura took off at a run, and the Southern couple looked up as one.

"Daddy, Ah _swear_, Ah'm takin' him straigh' down ta Hank – there's been more than enough exitemen' fo' one nagh'. Fo' both of us," Rogue said sincerely, smiling at Remy, and Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Call him Daddy would she? Damn it, the girl knew too much. He never could resist that one.

"Go, get outta my sight. I got blonder fish ta fry. Go on – get! And you tell Hank he needs t' take a crash course in communications!" The last part was said to their retreating backs, and he adjusted Rogue's bag over his shoulder, set his frown fiercely in place and marched down the hall in the opposite direction.

Clearly, the place had been going to pot in his absence. You just couldn't trust these people to maintain order for half a day while he sorted out his personal business. Typical! Pausing in his rampage to throw Rogue's bag into her room, he then marched down to the living room, the source of all the hubbub he was hearing out of the corner of his ear, and when he threw open the doors sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Just what in the hell is going on down here?!" he demanded loudly, everyone – and it really was everyone – turning to look at him, all with the same apprehensive expressions on their faces. Except Ilyana, who ran at him and hugged him, proclaiming in somewhat broken, though perfectly overjoyed, English,

"We miss you so much, Logan! We adopt big kitty while you gone!"

The light officially went from Logan Howlett's life.

"Oh, _hell_ no..."

_

* * *

_

Laura had known the minute she had picked up the scent. She didn't know how she'd known, but she knew. Right down to the tips of her fingers she knew. They tingled with that odd tingling that meant something was about to happen, and she tore down the hall recklessly, her heart racing even though she was barely exerting herself. He was there, she knew he was. He'd been waiting for her. There was no other explanation for his being there, he really had nothing else to tie him to the Institute so he had to have been waiting for her. Stopping for a moment she looked into an empty room to her left, the window wide open and the source of the icy air whispering over her face. That wasn't right. She entered cautiously, knowing the room was unoccupied but wondering if perhaps it might be a prank in the making by Havok or Ray – luring in an unsuspecting adult with the cunning use of wasted heating bills would be very like them. Sensing nothing suspicious, she closed the window and turned around to resume her search, but a flicker of movement to her right alerted her and she spun around to face –

A tired-looking girl in an oversized hoodie and muddied boots, hair tousled and straggling over one shoulder as though blown there. Her own reflection. She took a step towards the mirror, pushing her hand through her hair in an attempt to right it, and she pulled out a leaf. She had a smudge of lipstick on one cheek and her eyeliner had run a little. She wiped at it but it left a mark anyway, and she felt suddenly very awkward and a little stupid. She didn't normally think about these things – makeup to her was expression and camouflage for women, a tool to get what you wanted faster, and clothing was something you wore that felt good most of the time rather than conformed. Kitty would rant for hours over what to wear for Lance even if everyone knew she'd pick the new cardigan and the cute pink skirt, but Laura had never really bothered to consider dressing up for anyone. It seemed so silly to agonise over what you wore, or worse, dress uncomfortably for a few hours to make an impression on someone else. But... Perhaps it was nerves, or a stirring of some deep feminine instinct, but she felt like she ought to look nicer than she did for this.

Tugging at her hoodie and finger-combing her hair, she suddenly stopped moving completely. Torpid was standing in the door looking at her in confusion. Ashamed to have let the child see her behaving so ridiculously, she turned to face her with a smile, knelt, and opened her arms. The girl ran into them, hugging her tightly, and Laura hugged her back. Rogue had said that Torpid looked up to Laura, and if that was so, then Torpid felt about her the way Laura felt about her sister, and she would never let Laura see her trying to change who she was for some guy. No way. Letting go of Torpid, the epiphany burning through her, she almost didn't catch the girl's signing,

'_You're back! You look pretty – was Louisiana fun? Is Rogue okay?'_ Standing slowly, she nodded, then looked back at her reflection.

"It was much warmer than here. Rogue is fine. She and Remy have gone to see Hank. Am I – am I really pretty..?" Torpid appeared surprised at the question, and looked at her oddly.

'_Are you ok? You need to go and see Kyle,'_ she signed quickly, then added,

'_But if you feel bad maybe you should go and sleep a little? Storm says not to stay up too late and get tired.'_ Laura shook her head.

"I feel fine... I just... You should go and see Rogue..." Torpid reached out and squeezed her fingers lightly.

'_I'll see you tomorrow. He's on the roof,'_ she signed with an encouraging smile, then left, and Laura stood there, feeling cold in more ways than one. She put her arms around herself, breathing deeply and closing her eyes.

She had been trying too hard, just the same way Rogue sometimes said Kitty did, building things up to a head inside herself because she wanted things to be perfect, just like Rogue and Remy. She didn't _need_ to be wearing make up. He had seen her without it more times than with. Another deep breath. In, and out. Rogue had been a mess when Remy had confessed that he loved her. It was doable. It wasn't a big deal. Life was never perfect, never like the books or the movies. There were always things that went wrong, there was always something you didn't plan for. If it was meant to be the way she wanted it to be, then it would be so whether or not she had brushed her hair. Another deep breath. She opened her eyes again, looked at the girl in the mirror. She was smiling. Laura almost told her to wipe that smirk off her face.

_

* * *

_

He didn't think he'd ever been fully cognisant and so bloody frightened at the same time before in his life. The anger he relied on to get him through things was gone, and he felt vulnerable, just as he would if someone stripped him of his powers. It was his defence against the world and he didn't know how to handle its sudden loss. Torpid had been oddly comforting to talk to – sobering, something to centre his focus on instead of dwelling on the fact that he _did_ want Laura to come home. He _had_ missed her. He _had_ wanted her there. Knowing that she wasn't around was worse than torture, and he knew all about that. He couldn't honestly liken it to any kind of pain he'd felt before, but it was horrible and he was afraid of it. Because it was _her_. He felt that she was missing so acutely that it was hurting. And as if that wasn't enough he was afraid that she'd come back having decided on the basis of her sister's new-found fairytale ending that she didn't really need to be saddled with a head-case who wasn't always there for her. And she'd be right. It was selfish to hang on to her. Even if he was finally trying to do something worthwhile with his wasted existence, he was almost certain it would fall under the too-little-too-late heading, and even if it didn't, he knew that he didn't deserve her. At all. Laura Howlett was beautiful, brave, and miles out of his league. Fucking _aeons_ out of his league.

In that moment he truly resented her for making him forget to resist his own humanity. Being a human being was too fucking painful. It was all her fault. Why should he feel like shit? It wasn't fair.

But it was fair. He'd essentially used her. If not intentionally then certainly still by everyone not mentally impaired's standards. If she'd felt even a tenth of what he felt now every time he'd left her or not shown up to meet her or been unreachable for some other reason, then he fully deserved to hurt this way. The sense of justice went against his self-preservation principles but they could go fuck themselves. If she had _ever_ felt bad because of him then he deserved it. And she needed to know that.

_

* * *

_

She didn't know how she felt about anything as she climbed through the hatch and closed it again behind her, but the second she saw him, turned towards her, hair blowing away from his face, her chest constricted painfully and she couldn't speak. When she did, it wasn't particularly enlightened.

_

* * *

_

He heard the hatch open again and turned to see her, because he knew it would be and he intended to get every last second out of their time together now that he knew what he was feeling. She was fantastically beautiful, as always, but he ignored that as best he could to avoid saying anything about it and noticed the black stain on her lips and the way she smelt faintly of warmth and cold at the same time instead. She just stood there after closing the hatch behind her, not moving, hands clasped in front of her, and he steeled himself for the killing blow when he saw her lips part. What came out was a little different than he had expected.

"There is blood on your face," she said softly, big clear eyes fixing on his, and he had a sudden hallucinative flashback of a completely out of context but similar statement she'd once made soon after they'd met. He had to wonder if this was actual impending insanity of the human kind coming around to bite him in the arse now that he had found a way to stave off the other kind.

"Yeah... I... It was an accident." And that was a lie. God damn it. No more lying. This wasn't like a new year's resolution, this shit had to _stick!_ He had to mean it!

"Did it hurt?" Now there was an odd question. He supposed it had but not that he had really noticed. He had been far too busy realising that he was madly in love with Laura, who was coincidentally also the woman of his dreams. As soon as he'd thought it he cursed himself for not just saying out loud. It could have worked. It certainly could have breached the awkwardness.

"I didn't feel it..." he said instead, angry at himself for not just being able to –

"Did you miss me at all?" she asked suddenly, eyes shining and hands clutching at her sleeves convulsively.

"I missed you so much I moved in while you were gone," he blurted out. Of all the totally stupid things to –

She was in his arms before he even had time to consider how unlikely that was. She was also crying. How the hell were you supposed to handle that?

"You _moved in?_ You mean it? How? _Why?! _For me – really, _truly,_ for me?" she sobbed, and he looked at her with total lack of understanding on his face as she pulled away a little, looking at him seriously, tears running down her cheeks.

"I did. For you. Laur' – I can't – I don't – aw, _fuck it_ – " He held her at arm's length and took a deep breath.

"Laur', I love you." He was certain he saw her stop breathing.

_

* * *

_

Her whole world stopped at the words. They didn't sound the way Remy's had, forced from his throat as though he was too afraid of them to speak them. Kyle's 'I love you' was delivered in the clearest, sincerest tone she'd ever heard him use, his voice scratching over it as though he could hardly keep it in at all but wasn't sure of her reaction. His eyes were almost apologetic, but he looked and sounded fiercely defiant, as if he was perfectly ready to fight her on this if she wasn't onboard with the idea.

And she wanted to hear it again.

_

* * *

_

"You – you what?" Oh hell. Literally. Once wasn't enough? The torture had to be drawn out further than it already had been? Couldn't she just make with the 'I'm sorry, it's not me it's you' speech already and put him out of his misery? Also, literally. If she needed a block for the execution he'd get one for her in a heartbeat.

"I love you, Laura Howlett." The second time was almost less painful than the first. Almost.

"Since when?" she demanded, and he resisted the urge to wipe away the tear trickling down her right cheek. Resisted it strongly.

"Since always. I was too stupid to realise what I was feeling. I'm so sorry Laur'..." He cursed himself mentally as he wiped away the errant teardrop anyhow and heard his voice drop an octave on the last apology he'd ever make to anyone. He had used up his quota.

"How do you know that's what you feel?" she asked, hands on his wrists, and he took a deep, calming breath. That didn't work at all.

"I don't! I have no fucking idea, okay? I don't _want_ to feel like this, Laura, I didn't plan for this, I have no ulterior motive in telling you this, this is just the way it is so deal with it already! I can't _help_ it! I love you – I can't stand not being around you, I can't focus on anything else when you're there, you've ruined me! I'm _feeling_ shit because of you and it hurts like hell – I'm even fucking _sane_ now because of you – yeah, not likely, right? Wrong! You did this to me, Laur', I can't even just go back to what I was before – it's all your fault!"

He knew he was yelling and that that was definitely _not_ in the handbook for Wannabe Prince Charmings under the 'Confession Speech' chapter, but the frustration over her dragging out the inevitable the way she was had him by the heartstrings and it was a damn sight better than whining about it. If something was worth saying it was worth yelling too. Or something.

She was staring at him, hadn't let go of him yet, and he couldn't read her expression. The guilt won out and he started to apologise but she held up a hand.

"You mean to tell me that you have been in love with me all along and that you had no idea? That you only know now because you feel awful and that you blame me for this? And that you're afraid you're sane now because of me?"

"Well – yeah. That's exactly what I'm telling you." She closed her eyes and released a deep sigh, and then her lips curved into a smile that nearly distracted him from the situation at hand. Damn her and her ability to screw him five ways from Sunday when he thought he had a handle on what he was thinking.

"You really do love me," she said simply, and he hadn't time to ask her how the hell she went from him yelling to deciding he meant what he had been saying because she was quite suddenly kissing him. Damn her and her disabling tactics. He pulled away and glared at her disbelievingly.

"You're not serious? I feel like shit because I can't function without you and that's the deciding factor for you? All because I admitted that I've gone from semihuman nutjob to perfectly normal nutjob thanks to realising that I'm in love with you? Because I wouldn't buy it!" She smiled that perfect, secretive smile again and wound her arms around his neck.

"Kyle... I love you, too. I didn't know I did until I thought that you might choose to stay away from me because you didn't want to see me after I was so angry – "

"You're kidding? I honestly love you more when you threaten to kill me if I don't comply," he laughed, feeling a touch hysterical.

"Call it my conditioning. I couldn't stay away if I tried when you're angry!" Her eyes sparkled and he had a thought that if this was what burgeoning human insanity was like then it was definitely much weirder than the other kind.

"Be quiet when I'm trying to tell you things or I swear I will – "

"I'd like to see you try, girly," he said wickedly, and _she_ laughed, _sounding_ a touch hysterical.

"I love you so much! I was afraid you'd leave me for good and I knew I couldn't let that happen," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Couldn't let it happen how?" It was her turn to look decidedly wicked.

"Well, I wouldn't have let you just leave me like that. You have to know that I would have come after you. You don't just get to leave me," she said matter-of-factly, and he grinned.

"Sounds great. I'll keep a bag by the door then." She punched him on the shoulder with a growl and he felt the impact on a bone-deep level, but couldn't help but laugh with her at how completely stupidly abnormal they were together.

"Laur'..." she looked at him shyly as he took her hand, admiring the fact that this was the very same hand that had just fractured something in his shoulder.

"I love you. I really, really do. I have nothing to compare it to, but there _is_ nothing to compare you to anyway, so that doesn't really bother me," she giggled and he fought the urge to forego any more talking and just kiss her already and continued.

"I'm not ever going to leave you if I can help it, okay? I mean that. I found out I loved you about three hours ago and I've been a sad wreck ever since because you weren't there. I feel – I feel _real_, like a real person, for the first time since I got my powers, and that's your fault. I love you. That sounds weird when I say it but I really do mean it. If you can live with me, I can live for you..." She frowned, looked him up and down, but the sparkle never left her eyes.

"No more death wish? No more stupid arguments? No more making my Dad angry with us? No more trips out of town and coming back two days later? No more speeding tickets and getting dragged downtown and escaping while they're not looking? No more bar runs? No more concerts?" she asked, tilting her head and regarding him seriously, and he shook his head.

"None of that ever again ever. Except maybe whenever we feel like it," he replied, equally seriously, and she reached up and pulled at his hair, winking.

"I'm in. Effective immediately." He grabbed her around the waist, swung her around and kissed her as she laughed and held on to him for dear life. And oh how dear it was...

"That's more like it," she said haughtily,

"I have standards, you know. I will be expecting certain things."

"I'd never settle for anything less than unfair demands and hell-to-pay if I don't deliver," he answered honestly, and she smiled, eyes softening as she kissed him again.

"There it is..." she said with a little tear in the corner of one eye, and he held her a little tighter because he could.

"There what is?" She let the tear fall and smiled brilliantly.

"Everything," she said quietly, and looking at her smile like that, he understood perfectly.

_

* * *

_

"You damn sure are," he replied, and she couldn't help crying, couldn't help the tears anymore, because she _felt_, felt that he loved her. He didn't have to go down on one knee, he didn't have to promise to change, didn't have to be anything but what he was, and he was _there_, holding her, and she _loved_ him, loved him so much she felt unable to contain it, and he was right, it did hurt. But it hurt because it was right, and that was all the proof she needed.

"Thank you," she breathed, and he grinned at her, and she couldn't help smiling back, knowing that he never smiled like that for anyone but her.

"For handling things oh-so-well?" he teased, and she stuck out her tongue.

"For realising in time. And giving me my fairytale." His blue eyes darkened a little and he looked down.

"I don't know about that. I'm not really fairytale material," he said, and she knew he was right.

"I'm not either. But Kitty says there is such a thing as modern fairytales and it does not get much more modern than two genetic-experiment mutants living happily ever after," she said slowly, and he looked at her oddly.

"Modern fairytales have happy endings?" She nodded.

"Of course. They're still fairytales." His eyes lit up.

"In that case, Laura Howlett – live happily ever after with me? Bar runs and angry Daddy's and all?" She wanted to kiss him but she wanted him to promise her something of vital, deal-breaking, non-negotiable importance first, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"If you promise me two things."

"Anything you want, it's yours. Not that I need to tell you that," he said with a grin, and she smirked.

"No one else gets the bitch seat on your bike and you'll never cut your hair," she stated, and he roared with laughter.

"Just as you like, no more haircuts and anti-socialism all the way," he laughed, and she grinned back at him.

"Now let's hear it," she demanded.

"Bayville has to know too? Damn girl, you just don't let a guy keep any dignity do you?" She shook her head, exhilarated, and he tipped his head back and let the whole world know,

"_I LOVE LAURA HOWLEEEEEEEEEET!_"

And, laughing as he howled the admission to the skies, she realised that it was the most beautiful sound in the whole world because both it and he were hers. And then he was tucking her into his arms again, and she was kissing him, and she knew that it went both ways when she whispered,

"And I love you, Kyle Gibney," and he shivered and kissed her back. Because if he was hers, then she was whole enough to be his in return.

_

* * *

_

Kyle's room remained untouched. Laura's boot had come down hard on that score as she had thrown his worldly possessions into _her_ room and refused to discuss the point.

Rogue had had Remy's things shipped from Louisiana and had been decorating her room ever since they arrived, refusing to leave until Remy got out of the med bay, before announcing to everyone that they were now engaged and living together permanently.

Lance had finally grown a pair – inspired by a moving scene wherein the badass Kyle Gibney was seen arguing heatedly with his beloved Laura over his old boots which she deemed unfit for further wear and promptly shredded (she took them off him first) which prompted a fit of toddler-like wailing from the oversized kitty (Ilyana could not be swayed on that count) who then destroyed Laura's favourite hoodie, whereafter the frightening couple made up instantly citing the fact that 'true love takes work' as their reason for resolving things without bloodshed – and had demanded that Kitty marry him before the next year was up despite her having a year and a _half_ left of studying before she gained her degree.

And since this all ocurred within the space of the next week, Logan had had a full nervous breakdown under Storm's supervision, taken Kyle drinking to bond with the younger feral – an exercise that took most of two days and roughly enough alcohol to drown a small country – and come home blind drunk and sans wallet but feeling distinctly fatherly where the blonde was concerned. It seemed that the 'take care of my daughter' speech he had so carefully prepared had gone on hiatus somewhere between Kyle paying for the binge and Remy tactically bringing him coffee as he and Kyle enjoyed their respective half-hour hangovers once home and away from the effects of all that lovely poison. The coffee-move launched Remy's instantaneous position as 'a great guy', something Kyle and Logan agreed on mutually, and which to the girls' intense eye-rolling brought the three much closer in a less-than-manly display of whining thanks and comments on just how good it was to have other men around to hang out with. Logan could be found a few hours later on the phone to the contractors asking for a quote on soundproofing two largish rooms.

And so when John got home from his Thursday session with Charles and Wanda asked his opinion on the status of Rogue and Laura's love-lives and whether they'd landed deserving males or not, all he had to say was,

"She's apples, my luv. _Apples_."


End file.
